


Hand Me Down

by chooken



Category: Westlife
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Boys Kissing, Bullying, Coming of Age, Cuddling & Snuggling, Depression, Developing Relationship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Emotionally Repressed, First Crush, Flashbacks, Friendship/Love, Gender Roles, Getting to Know Each Other, Grinding, Guilt, Hand Jobs, Homophobia, Hurt/Comfort, Internalized Homophobia, Kissing, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Panic Attacks, Past Sexual Abuse, Prayer, Religious Guilt, Repressed Memories, Secrets, Self-Acceptance, Self-Denial, Self-Hatred, Sexual Abuse, Sexual Confusion, Shame, Talking, Therapy, Watching Someone Sleep, conversion camp, conversion therapy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-22
Updated: 2015-08-22
Packaged: 2018-04-16 13:31:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 16
Words: 72,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4627092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chooken/pseuds/chooken
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The only true things Nicky knows after three months with Mark is that he only looks comforted when he's hurting himself, that he won't look Nicky in the eyes, and that something has happened to him.  Something he won't talk about, but seems to be slowly pulling him apart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Oh...”

Nicky looked up.

“Okay?”

A deep, wracking breath forced itself from Mark’s navel to his throat. He winced a little, then groaned.

“Yep.”

“Because if you want me to stop, I can...”

“Nonono.” Mark’s hands fisted into the sheets. Nicky’s hand ran up his arm, up his throat, caressed his cheek. Mark’s legs shifted for purchase on Nicky’s waist, lifting a little, making Nicky close his eyes tightly when the angle changed and a small groan leapt from Mark’s bottom lip.

“I’m hurting you.”

“You’re not. Shut the fuck up and stop worrying.” Nicky’s eyes opened to see Mark’s close tightly, screwing closed. His cheeks flushed pink, a rosy blush that often appeared when Mark was exposed like this. Open, his body bared to Nicky. Nicky put a hand on his chest, feeling it slide in the sweat.

“You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

“Yes I fucking do.” Mark always swore a lot when he was trying to hide something. He wasn’t doing a very good job – Nicky could feel the twitching Mark was trying to distract him from, his stomach tensing under Nicky's palm. “Just fucking… wait a second.”

“Mark...”

“Nicky.” A hand clenched on the sheets again. “I have to. Okay?”

Nicky nodded. Okay.

This was what Mark did. Try to solve problems by hurting himself. Oh, of course he always said it was for Nicky, but that wasn’t it at all. It was so Mark could feel better, and so that Nicky wouldn’t know that Mark was more than a little fucked up. That Mark didn’t get some kind of comfort from the fact that he might be punishing himself – that Nicky’s cock in him was nothing to do with pleasure.

Mark wasn’t a bottom. He didn’t like this. Nicky had seen him wince the few times he'd relented and done it, felt the yanking, crushing tightness around his cock when he pushed in, desperately trying to keep his erection so that he could hurt Mark. Make Mark feel better. Even though the thought of hurting someone he loved so much made him soften instantly.

But Mark always thanked him afterwards, even if he didn’t say it out loud.

“I’m good. It’s fine.” A hand left the sheet, grabbed Nicky’s arse, started pulling.

It wasn’t fine. It really wasn’t.

“I don’t want to hurt you.” Nicky whispered, pushing deep before stopping. Giving Mark that little bit before he leant over, kissed his lips, felt their sweat stick together, tacky and clammy. Arms wrapped around his waist.

“I want you to.” Mark admitted softly, his eyes hurt before they looked away. Closed. Concealing. “Hurt me.”

“Why?” Nicky asked. He pressed his face into Mark’s throat, felt hips lift to adjust to this new angle. “You don’t deserve it.”

“Yes I do.”

“You deserve…” Nicky shook his head. “No. I won’t.”

“I want it. Can’t you see that I…” Mark’s chin tipped defiantly, moving away from Nicky. “It doesn’t hurt. I promise.”

“But you just said…” Nicky sighed, pulling back slowly. This had gone on for too long. He felt his cock slip out, the condom sliding awkwardly around the tip as the tightness released itself. “No.” Mark moaned.

“But…”

“No.” Nicky shook his head, pulling the suddenly very loose condom off, tying it off even though there was nothing in it.

“You don’t love me…”

“I don’t trust you.” Nicky corrected him. “Because you won’t tell me what’s going on.”

“They’re the same thing.”

“Wrong.” He threw the condom at the bin. Anger, hurt, guilt, love all fought for dominance. Mark’s eyes looked back at him; angry. Sad. Nicky ran a hand over his face. “I can’t do this. Watch you hurt yourself. Let myself hurt you.”

Mark sat up, and Nicky wanted to cry when he saw the sore flinch in his movements. The way his legs shifted stiffly. Blue eyes blazed over still-flushed cheeks.

“You don’t fucking understand.”

“So tell me.”

“You _wouldn’t_ understand.” Mark snarled. “You _couldn’t_ understand a fucking _thing._ ”

“Try me, sunshine.” The endearment slipped out. Nicky watched full, red lips purse, his heart hammering against his ribs. Three months of lies hanging between them.

The way Mark closed his eyes when he came, refusing to look at Nicky as though it would burn his eyes from his sockets if they caught a glimpse of him. The way Mark never said anything about his feelings that wasn’t superficial. The way Nicky didn’t know something. Something big. Something Mark never mentioned but which hung between them like bitter toffee… binding them together but never letting them get properly, easily close. Never let them slip together easily, always making things… hard.

“Fuck you.” Again with the swearing. Mark reached for a shirt, yanked it down over his head. Stepped stiffly into grey tracksuit bottoms. Nicky stood, putting a hand on his arm.

“Stop it.” He said quietly. “Sit down. Talk to me.”

“No.” He wiped a hand over his face, like he was trying to hide. “I'm sorry I wasted your time. I'll...”

“Mark...”

“I'm...” His hand was on the doorknob, but he was moving slowly, like he was in pain. “I'll see you at dinner.”

“Mark!” Nicky stood in front of him. “Stop it. You're frightening me.” He yanked Mark into a hug, felt him stiff and resisting in his arms. “Stop it.”

“I'm sorry.” And then Mark was crying, sinking to the floor of the hotel room, slipping out of Nicky's arms, his face buried in his hands while he sat cross-legged on the carpet. Nicky collapsed down beside him, his legs barely able to hold him up, and gathered him into another hug.

“What are you sorry for?”

“I shouldn't... shouldn't be...” He sucked in a deep, rattling breath. “I'm wrong. I'm sorry.”

“Wrong about what, love?” Nicky kissed his hair.

“About... about me. I'm wrong. Inside. And...” His hands were still over his face. Nicky ran a hand over both of them, feeling damp tears between the fingers.

“You're not. You're perfect.” Nicky whispered, beginning to rock him gently. Mark's hands came away from his eyes to cling to him, face pressing into Nicky's neck and spreading wet, slick tears. “You're beautiful.”

“Stop _lying._ ” Mark sounded almost hysterical. Nicky reached out, tugging on the duvet until it came free of the mattress, dragging it over until he could wrap it around shivering shoulders. After a long time he felt Mark shudder to a halt, his body still shaken by hitching spasms.

“Honey...” Nicky whispered, pressing gentle kisses all over a damp forehead, feeling hands clench slowly at his back, the rest of Mark sagged and defeated. “I don't know what's wrong. I want to help.”

“You can't.” Mark muttered. “Just let me go.”

“Nope.” Nicky hugged him a little tighter. “I'm a bit in love with you, so that's not an option.” He stroked dark hair back from a hidden face, feeling wetness in the crook of his neck. “You're stuck with me.”

“It's not... it leads me off the path and... face persecution... mortify this sin... I'll...” he was starting to babble now. Nicky tried to shush him, heard him keep going, mumbling something about hellfire and damnation.

“Stop.” He said, starting to panic. Mark sounded lost, barely seemed to even hear him, was saying something about being stronger than temptation and some other crap he could barely hear. It was all running together, something that sounded like a bible verse thrown in a blender. “Marky. Stop.”

“...sheep who stray from the fold will...”

“Mark!” He yanked the boy in his arms back, saw a flushed face and glassy eyes. His hand was lifting a second later, cracking hard across a red cheek.

Mark's mouth kept stuttering for a second, like he was trying to get out words that wouldn't come while Nicky shook his hand, feeling it sting. He mumbled to a stop a second later, looking at Nicky like he wasn't sure who he was. Nicky leaned their foreheads together, feeling his heart pound, feeling Mark shiver as he wrapped an arm back around him.

“Stop.” He whispered. Heard Mark whimper. “Stop it.” He cupped a hot cheek. “Breathe for me.” He took in a deep breath, felt Mark do the same after a moment. They exhaled slowly together. “There we are. One more. Breathe.” Mark mirrored him, his eyes closed. “Let's get you back into bed.” He suggested, tugging gently. Mark followed him up a second later, letting himself be guided onto the mattress like he'd forgotten where he was. When he lay down he was still shivering, his eyes half-closed and barely responsive. Nicky slid in beside him.

“Sorry.” Mark whispered. Nicky shook his head, kissing tear-stained cheeks.

“Don't be.” He assured him. “Sleep, okay? We can talk about it later.”

 

*

 

When Mark woke up the bus was just pulling into a long dirt road. He'd gotten off the plane that afternoon, totally exhausted, but still excited. Four weeks in the UK at camp. He didn't know why his parents had organised it – things had been a bit distant with them the last couple of months, though he wasn't quite sure why.

Maybe it was that he was growing up. He had just turned seveteen, maybe that was just what things were like when you started getting older. He had other interests, spent less time at home and more time hanging with his friends and going out, and with all the studying coming up to Leaving Cert he barely saw his parents any more, except for at dinner and on the weekends he wasn't out with Shane or Kian, rehearsing for the musicals and singing along to Kian's guitar.

But his parents had asked last week if he wanted to go for a few weeks. It was supposed to be a good camp – meant to have a performing arts programme and it would be cool to be out on his own for once, if a little scary. A bit of anonymity.

He got bullied a bit at school. He sort of suspected why, thought maybe it had something to do with the fact that he wasn't exactly clicking with girls the way everyone else was. Maybe this was an opportunity for a fresh start. Meet people that didn't know him, make some friends.

He looked out the window, wiping bleary eyes and looking at the trees walling in the dirt road. It wasn't that different from home, here. He could see the silver flash of water through the trees, hear the call of birds through the slightly scratched windows of the bus.

There weren't many people on the bus. Two other boys a few seats up, as well as a couple of girls towards the back. None of them were sitting together, were just sitting looking out the window. One of the boys had his headphones in, and one of the girls was reading a book. None of them had spoken to him, or each other as far as he could tell, though he had been asleep for at least an hour.

The treeline broke, and a minute later they pulled up in a small gravel parking lot, the bus rattling over the driveway until it pulled in behind a row of other buses. The door opened with a rusty creak.

He climbed out. The air was cold and clean, and he breathed deep, though nerves were still swirling in his stomach. He could see other kids running around, most of them about his age or a little younger.

A man came by with a clipboard, asked his name. He was handed a large envelope a second later, and pointed towards a small chapel in the corner, told to line up outside for orientation.

He tore open the envelope while he was waiting. It all looked okay, had a few activity sheets and stuff inside, a timetable. There wasn't as much performing arts stuff as he'd expected, though there were a few choir sessions on the list and plenty of outdoor stuff like canoeing and fishing. There were morning and afternoon prayers listed, and he was a bit surprised by the frequency of them, though his parents had said it was a Christian camp, so he supposed that made sense. The rest of it looked fun, though.

“Hi.” There was a boy standing next to him. A little taller, with red hair and freckles splattered like sand across a handsome face. “Jonah.”

“Hi. Mark.” He shook the hand that was offered. The boy had a Scottish accent, looked maybe fifteen or sixteen. “Where are you from?”

“Aberdeen.” He shrugged. “You...?”

“Sligo.” He scratched the back of his neck. “Are... you here by yourself or with friends or?”

“By myself.” The other boy nodded. “Um... I saw you're in my cabin...” He pointed at the green square on the back of Mark's envelope, then at the identical one on his own. “Thought I'd say hi.”

“Oh. Hi. Um...” He smiled. “Nice meeting you, I guess. You been here before?”

“No. No, my mum signed me up? I think she wants me to do a bit of the outdoor thing, you know. My dad left when I was little and she's always rabbiting on about like... male influences and not, like, hanging out with my sisters all the time. I don't know. I'm not really the outdoors type. Ginger, so I burn like crazy.” He laughed, and Mark did too, liking this boy immediately. “Think she's hoping I'll meet a girl as well. Do the like... summer romance thing?”

“Like Sandy and Danny?” Mark snorted. “Summer nights and that?”

“Yeah. Well... I don't know what she'd be like if I brought home a girl who smokes and wears skintight pants, but still, wouldn't mind an Australian.” He winked cheekily. Mark laughed.

They fell into comfortable conversation. Jonah was nice, seemed to like a lot of the same things he did and they had a similar sense of humour. By the time they were being led inside there were maybe sixty kids all standing outside the chapel, giggling and talking and making friends.

They sat down. There were counsellors everywhere, almost more than there were campers, lining the walls and wearing red polo shirts with whistles around their necks. They said a prayer. It was a generic one, one he knew from church every Sunday. His parents were religious, but he'd never really connected with the whole thing in the way they had, though he knew enough by rote to do a good approximation of piety.

The prayer finished. A couple got up, the owners of the camp apparently. They looked nice enough, in green polo shirts and unflattering khaki shorts. Painfully clean cut, with bright white smiles and the kind of voices that were so perky he was sure they bled sugar. They were welcomed, told some crap about finding themselves and being the best they could be, and then given over to a couple of the counsellors who started sorting them out for basic orientation, where to go for dinner, some ground rules.

There seemed to be a lot of rules, partly about things like bad language and stuff, but an awful lot about curfew and travelling in groups. Apparently no two campers were to be alone together, should always be in groups of three or more, even on free time, which he thought was very strange, but whatever. Maybe it was to stop girls and boys sneaking off together or something.

By the time it was done and he was settling into his cabin he had a sinking sense of unease. He wasn't sure what it was. Maybe homesickness – he'd never been away by himself before, and he sort of wanted to call his parents. That was against the rules too, apparently. They said it was to make sure they were socialising with other campers, but it didn't stop the hard knot in his stomach, tightening at the idea of not hearing his mother's voice when he wanted. At least to call and tell them he'd arrived safely.

She'd hugged him hard when she'd seen him off at the airport. His dad too, both of them kissing his cheek and telling him he'd be missed. Mark had hugged them back, told them he'd call as soon as he could, but now it appeared he couldn't and he didn't want them to worry about him, though apparently they had already been told. He wondered why they hadn't said.

The rest of the kids in his room seemed nice. Four boys, him on the bottom bunk and Jonah above him. The other two were Sam, a sullen pale boy with dark hair and a thick West Country accent, and Gabriel, a slender Spanish kid with unruly curly brown hair who managed a broken English but seemed friendly enough.

It was late, so there was really only time to settle in, go to dinner, and then have a bit of a singalong around the campfire. It was huge, leaping flames in the middle of a pit, all the other boys and girls sat on benches made of sawn logs, legs crossed in front on the dirt ground with marshmallows on sticks. The songs were all standard Kumbaya, religious crap, but it was sort of fun, hanging out with the other kids and meeting a few new people.

By the time he went to bed, the drifting sense of unease was forgotten, swept away by exhaustion, a full stomach, and the warmth of the blankets.

 

*

 

When Nicky woke it was early and Mark was still asleep beside him, his forehead pinched tensely even in sleep, hands fisted between them. He stroked his fingers through soft hair, saw creases relax in a tired face.

They hadn't been together long, but already he could feel himself swept up in Mark. He hadn't meant to. Had liked Mark from the first though. He was sweet and shy, had a sense of humour that seemed to come out of nowhere, like he surprised himself sometimes with what he'd said. Mark was mysterious, almost, always seemed to have hidden layers that Nicky wanted to peel back and peer into, find what was underneath.

So it hadn't been exactly hard for Nicky to fall in love with him.

That had always been his type. Tall, dark, and handsome. Not bad boys, as such, just someone who wasn't all there on the surface. Someone who was an experience instead of a prop. And that was Mark, from the moment he'd come to Dublin to stay with them and Nicky had finally seen him outside of Sligo, seen him look somehow more relaxed, from the moment he'd opened that mouth and Nicky had heard that gorgeous voice.

“Love you.” He murmured, not wanting to wake Mark, just wanting to say it. Never wanted to stop saying it, not since that day a couple of months ago when he'd finally, inexplicably just _kissed_ him. Felt Mark kiss back, after a tentative, stuttering moment, and then it had just been _snog_ , hands fluttering before finally landing on his waist, Nicky's fingers in soft hair. It hadn't been a great kiss, had been a bit awkward and like Mark was still trying to figure out what the hell was going on, but Nicky hadn't been able to help himself and suddenly they were doing it more. And it was better and _fuck_ Nicky wanted to crawl under his skin and live there.

“Mmm...” Mark murmured in his sleep, turning to bury his cheek into the pillow. Nicky kept stroking his hair, watching delicate eyelids shift.

Mark had said it back not long after. Hadn't been able to look him in the eye, his cheeks flushing red while he'd mumbled that he loved Nicky through a bitten lip, and Nicky had hugged him tight, kissed his forehead, and felt a heart beat hard against his chest.

The sex was... he wasn't sure, entirely. Fine, he supposed. Not that great, if he was honest with himself. Getting naked had been a fairly insurmountable task, and the first few times had just been him wanking Mark with a hand in his pyjama bottoms, Mark coming with a soft cry and burying his face in Nicky's neck, trembling through the aftershocks and then returning the favour like he wasn't sure he wanted to. Then one day Nicky had had a bad day and maybe been a bit short with him and that night Mark had rolled onto his front, buried his face in his arms, and said Nicky could fuck him if he wanted.

Nicky hadn't. Because Mark didn't look like he was convinced himself, but later he'd heard Mark crying softly in the bathroom and hadn't known what to do with that, didn't want Mark to feel rejected, so next time he had. And it had gone okay, Mark bracing on his knees while Nicky went slowly, tried to make him feel good. Mark hadn't been hard when he'd reached underneath to touch him, but he'd let Nicky suck him afterwards and then cried in the bathroom again when he'd thought Nicky was asleep.

Blue eyes barely cracked open while he watched, dark eyebrows knitting in while Mark looked away, tugging the blankets a little higher like he was trying to hide.

“Morning.” Nicky said quietly. “You're gorgeous.”  
  
Mark bit his lip, his eyes flicking suddenly to the door. Nicky shifted a little closer, leaning their foreheads together so Mark would have nowhere else to look. He cupped a slightly stubbly cheek, kissed a wrinkled nose.

“You sleep okay?” He murmured.

“Fine. Yeah.” Mark sucked in a shallow breath, and Nicky could feel his heart beating hard against his chest, the panicked pulse in his throat when he slid his hand down a long neck. “We should get up.”

“We have time.” Nicky assured him, not wanting him to run away before they had this out. “What's wrong, love?” He murmured. “Why won't you talk to me?”

“Nothing's wrong.” Mark sighed. “I just need a shower and...”

“You can have one in a minute.” Nicky promised. Mark closed his eyes, and Nicky didn't miss the way he turned slightly into the hand on his cheek. He ran his thumb under dark lashes, felt them brush his skin. “Talk to me.”

“No... it's fine.” Mark was pulling away, getting out of bed. Before Nicky could speak the bathroom door was closed, the shower going on inside. When he went to follow, the door was locked.

 

*

 

They went to chapel in the morning. It seemed normal enough, sitting on hard pews with rows of other kids, singing a couple of hymns. By the time the chaplain struck out into a sermon, Mark was kind of hoping it would be over soon so he could get some breakfast.

He didn't think much of the sermon. The topic seemed to mostly be homosexuality, and why it was wrong. He knew why it was wrong, had sat through enough crap about temptation at his own church to have heard it a thousand times. This seemed a bit more... intense. That homosexuality was not just wrong, but a treatable disease that was the result of parental neglect. That apparently gay boys had not gotten enough masculine encouragement from their fathers as a child, and that with therapy they could be turned away from depraved cravings and back to the family lifestyle that God wanted for them.

He supposed it sounded nice enough. Getting married, having kids, the white picket fence. He'd never thought about it much himself, though he supposed it was something he'd maybe suspected about himself. He'd checked it out curiously, once or twice, flicking surreptitiously through Cosmo in the magazine section of the supermarket while his mother was a few aisles over getting eggs and milk, lingering on the centrefold to see what it was like. He'd done the same with the lads mags, though, and that seemed okay too. Though he did wonder if he was supposed to feel... more for it. More than appreciating that the girl was quite pretty, if a little fake.

But the girls at school were nice enough. He hadn't kissed any, but he wasn't exactly popular enough to pull and he supposed he wasn't in any real rush. There'd be time for girls later, once he'd finished his studies, and anyway he'd rather be hanging out with his friends than trying to impress some lass who wasn't interested in him anyway.

“This is mental.” Jonah whispered. “You reckon the chaplain's gay? He seems like he's compensating for something.” Mark covered his mouth to hide a laugh, got a stern look from the counsellor closest to him and straightened his face again, Jonah biting his lip to hide his own smile.

It wrapped up with another few prayers and a hymn. It was all very similar in theme – sins of the flesh and lead us not into temptation. They were a camp full of hormonal teenagers so it probably made sense.

He made it to breakfast, shovelling cereal into his mouth and laughing with the other boys from his cabin. Sam was quiet, but Gabriel was laughing along while Jonah did terrible impressions of Jim Carrey and Eddie Murphy, waving his hands and gesturing wildly. He was a bit of a performer, was Jonah, outgoing and cheeky. Mark decided to see if they could be paired up on some of the outdoor stuff, maybe go canoeing together. It'd be nice to have a proper friend.

After breakfast they were to have one-on-one sessions with a guidance counsellor. He wasn't sure what that was about, but when he knocked on the office door it was to a bright and friendly man in a blue polo shirt named Ben who was maybe pushing forty, his greying hair slicked back from his face with too much hairgel.

He shook Ben's hand, took a seat, and was offered a glass of juice, which he took. It seemed easy enough. They just talked about basic things, what classes he liked in school, what his family was like, what movies he'd seen. Ben asked him if he had a girlfriend, and he said no. Asked him if he liked sports, and he said they were okay but he wasn't all that athletic. Asked him whether he had many friends at school.

He was easy to open up to and after a while Mark found himself mentioning that he got picked on a bit. That people didn't seem to like him for some reason, but that he had a few close friends and didn't mind all that much as long as people left him alone.

By the time he left he'd had a second cup of juice and was headed for a basketball game the counsellors were organising. It was fun, and by the time he was done he was sweaty and they were up by four points.

After lunch they went to the hall and sat in a circle, playing getting-to-know you sort of games and team-building exercises. Mark couldn't see why he'd come all this way for this. It was like any other camp, if a bit heavy-handed on the religion, but he wasn't exactly complaining, even if he was starting to miss his friends and parents.

They were passing a basketball back and forth, bouncing it across a circle of twenty or so other campers. They were playing an odd sort of game, catching and then bouncing it along, the boys naming boys activities and the girls naming girls ones. He thought that was a bit biased, especially when one tomboyish American girl was chastised for saying 'NASCAR', which got a bit of a giggle. The counsellors overseeing did not look pleased at all, though, and a few minutes later one came over and told her she was needed in the guidance office.

The rest of the day passed easily. They went for a hike, came back, had dinner, and Mark was in bed by nine o'clock lights out after what he considered an overly-suspicious contraband check of their cabin.

He went to sleep to the sound of the frogs in the river, and the soft snores of the other boys.

 


	2. Chapter 2

“You came down late.” Bryan gave Nicky a wink when they climbed into the van. Mark had been dressed when he'd come out of the shower, and by the time Nicky was done the room was empty. He was climbing in now, though, looking tired and small while he sank into the seat next to Kian, leaning against the window and shutting his eyes.

“Yeah. Slept in a bit.” Nicky explained, fastening his seatbelt and sneaking a look at long eyelashes and pale cheeks. Mark looked dreadful. Probably looked fine to everyone else, but Nicky could see the frayed edges, how thin and stretched he looked.

“I'll just bet you did.” Bryan smirked, glancing at Mark. They all sort of knew, though nobody had said anything outright. It was all a bit new to be making grand announcements, but he'd seen Kian and Shane exchanging looks and rolling their eyes when he'd carefully wait ten minutes after Mark went to bed before making his own excuses.

“Fuck off, Bry.” Nicky stuck his tongue out. “What's the plan for today, anyway?”

“Shoots and interviews for Smash Hits, Top of the Pops...” Kian was ticking the list off on his fingers. “Plus they want to do the cover shoot for If I Let You Go.”

“Cool.” Shane shrugged. “We wearing black or white?”

“Or go mad and do both.” Bryan rolled his eyes. “We could look like a zebra crossing.”

“Let's not go overboard.” Kian snorted. “And... yeah. Louis wants us to start working on our thank-yous for the album as well.”

Nicky shook his head, not able to believe they were putting out an album already. Swear It Again had only just gone number one, and they'd spent the last nine months rehearsing almost non-stop at The Pod, had been to Asia, which just blew his mind. The girls had gone mental. He couldn't believe it was less than two years since he'd come home from football and gone back to finish his Leaving Cert. It was mad.

The day passed at a blurred crawl, seeming to rush around him while the minutes stretched out to hours. He couldn't stop looking at Mark, watching him get slathered in make-up and forced into a smile, almost blinding above a white jacket and t-shirt.

“Hey.” Nicky said when they broke for lunch, having followed Mark when he'd gone out to the hall for the vending machine. Mark looked over, his lips pursing while he mechanically pressed buttons, watching a packet of crisps fall to the tray in the bottom.

“Hey.” Mark grabbed the packet. “We should probably get back to it.”

“We've got time. Kian's up next anyway.” Nicky tilted his head, trying to take in all of Mark at once. “You look tired.”  
  
“I'm okay. I'll go to bed early tonight. Maybe...” He paused, exhaling a trembling breath. “Maybe sleep in your own room tonight, okay?”

“Why?” Nicky crossed his arms, leaning against the wall. “Do I keep you awake?”

“No. Maybe. I'm just... I'm tired, like you said, so I might just crash by myself, you know?”

“I don't sleep properly without you there.” Nicky tried to look encouraging, but he could see Mark pulling away and it was heartbreaking. He reached out a hand, catching a strong forearm in his grasp. “I'll be quiet, I promise.”

“Nicky...” Mark bit his lip. “Look... I like you. I do. But maybe we just did this a bit fast, you know? I need a bit of space to like... clear my head. It's only been a couple of months and we see each other all the time...”

“Oh.” Nicky was about to argue, but they still had hours of today to go and the last thing he needed was to upset Mark and have a repeat of last night. He didn't want to be okay with this, though. Not for a second. Not while Mark was putting up walls, blocking him out. Not while he could see fearful tears standing in his boyfriend's eyes. “I guess that's okay.” He said finally.

The look of gratitude in Mark's eyes was almost heartbreaking.

He glanced around, realised there was no-one else around, and leaned in, quickly pecking a pink cheek. When he pulled back Mark was lifting a hand to touch the spot, chewing on his bottom lip.

“I love you.” Nicky said quietly. “No matter what's wrong. You can talk to me.”

Mark shook his head, walking back down the hall without reply.

 

*

 

Nicky didn't like sleeping without Mark. It was odd, but he'd sort of gotten used to it over the last couple of months, feeling an arm tossed across him in sleep, or soft, muttering breaths. Mark slept like he was doing it on the edge of a cliff, like he didn't want to move too much in case he fell, but when Nicky wrapped around him, stroked fingers through dark hair, he would feel the boy in his arms relax a little and cling on to Nicky instead of the sheets.

The bed felt too big. Empty. He buried his face in the pillow, trying to convince his brain to nod off but it was too awake, a million troubled thoughts swerving through his head like lightning.

Mark had barely spoken to him the rest of the afternoon except the usual required pleasantries, smiling benignly when the others had been joking on the way back to the hotel but not getting involved, looking at his hands like he was trying to grasp some unrecoverable answer.

Dinner was quiet, and halfway through Mark had said goodnight and gone back to his room, the others looking like they expected Nicky to follow. But he'd sat there instead, the lads looking increasingly confused until he finished picking at his desert and mentioned that he'd be crashing in with Shane again, if that was all right.

“Nicky?”

He lifted his face out of the pillow, glancing over at the boy in the other bed. Shane was looking at him, eyes peering over the blankets from under a clump of messy brown hair.

“Hey.”

“You okay?”

“I'm fine.” Nicky shrugged. “Sorry. Can't sleep. Didn't mean to wake you.”

“You didn't.” The blankets dropped a little. “Is everything alright?”  
  
“Sure. Yeah.” Nicky nodded, pushing hair back from his face and rolling over onto his side to look at the younger boy. “Why?”

“No... just. You and Mark usually room together. Thought I'd check...” Shane huffed out a breath. “Did you have a fight or something?”

“No. I don't know.” He sighed. They hadn't, but somehow he felt like they'd had some great misunderstanding, some conflict that he couldn't quite name. He kept seeing hysterical tears, hearing those sobs, and then the way Mark had pulled away from him. “I don't know.” He said again. “I don't think so.”

“Oh.” Shane chewed his lip. His eyes were sleepy, but looked concerned. “Is he your boyfriend?”

“Yeah.” Nicky nodded. “I think so. I mean... we haven't said labels or anything. But yeah.”

“Right. Cool.” Shane's eyes were thoughtful. “That's nice, I guess.”

“Mmm...” Nicky couldn't think what to say, just knew what he felt. “I'm in love with him. Like...” A little flicker of warmth glowed in his chest, his cheeks heating as he said the words out loud. “It's only been a couple of months, but...” A grin crawled stupidly across his face. “He's lovely.”

“I'll take your word for it, mate. Cheers.” Shane rolled his eyes. “Why aren't you in with him, then?”

“He just... I don't know. It was going quite fast and he wanted a bit of space, I suppose.” Nicky tried to stay casual but he wanted to burst into tears. “We're always in each other's pockets. Think he just wanted a bit of time on his own.”

“Yeah, that sounds like him.” Shane snorted. Nicky stared, not sure what he was talking about. “He's always been a bit like that. Quiet or whatever. Won't say what he's thinking. I remember in school he'd disappear for days. You'd call and leave a message and not hear back.”

“Oh.” Nicky realised how little he actually knew about Mark's past. The obvious story was there, of course. Grew up in Sligo, did some musicals, joined up with Shane and Kian and the other lads. It was a familiar story that he'd heard in every interview for the last year or so. “But he'd be okay, right?”

“Yeah. I mean, I guess.” Shane shrugged. “He's Mark. He'd go away, come back, and still be Mark.” He pursed his lips. “Still, there was one holidays we didn't see him for over a month. His mam said he went to camp in England but we didn't hear anything about it and when he came back he just said it was fine. He was a bit weird after that.”

“Weird how?”

“Dunno. Just... not like himself.” Shane scratched the back of his neck. “Seemed fine. Probably just exam stress or something. It wasn't long before Leaving Cert, so he and Kian were both all over the place. I was at college so I didn't see him that much anyway.”

“But he was okay?”

“I don't know. I think... it might have something to do with him being gay, if I'm honest. I mean we all sort of knew. Not like, _knew_ , but he always got hassled a bit at school and I think it was just like a... a vibe or something. People just sort of seemed to sense...” Shane shrugged. “I doubt he was saying anything at home.”

“So he was like... worried, or?”

“Dunno. Maybe. Do his parents know about you two?”

“No.” Nicky shook his head. They didn't. Mark had asked him not to say anything last time they'd come to a gig, said he should probably broach the thing about being gay before the relationship thing, and Nicky got it. His own parents just knew that he was sort of seeing someone and hoped it was going to go somewhere, but he hadn't named names, didn't want them blurting something out to Mark's parents without realising. “They wouldn't like it?”

“I'm not sure. Think he tried really hard not to be gay. Dating a few girls that last year, sort of thing. Don't know if he slept with any of them, but he went from having no girlfriends to asking a few out. I remember once we were watching some movie and two guys kissed in it. Stupid comedy, like played for laughs sort of thing? He just about bolted from the room. Went to the bathroom for ages, and then went home right after. Said he wasn't feeling well.”

“Oh.” Nicky bit his lip, thinking about all the tentative contact between the two of them, the way Mark always looked a little panicked. Didn't touch him all that much, even in private, or initiate much of anything if he didn't have to.

And then sometimes it was the opposite. Kissing him hard, grinding against him, but looking like there were tears hiding behind those gorgeous blue eyes that Nicky wanted to fall into.

“He liked you straight away, though.”

Nicky felt a blush rise into his cheeks, a grin bite his mouth. He'd liked Mark straight away too. All shyness and pale skin and floppy hair, eyes big and wondering like a baby bird about to leave the nest.

“Really?”

“Yeah. After we'd seen you a few times for auditions it was all 'Nicky this' and 'Nicky that'. We thought we was gonna ask for your autograph.”

That didn't sound like Mark at all. Not the quiet, almost aloof kid Nicky had met again a few weeks later. It was sweet, though, that he'd been apparently trying to play it cool with Nicky while gushing to his friends.

“What did he say?”

“Dunno. Just... 'Nicky said this', 'oh that reminds me of a thing Nicky did'. 'I liked Nicky's jacket, I wonder where he got it'. Like, we'd be chatting and for some reason you'd keep coming up. Kian asked if he had a crush on you or something.”

“What did he say to that?”

“Dunno. His ears went bright red and then he went to the bathroom. Then about six months later we realised you two were shagging and it all made sense.” He gave Nicky a cheeky smirk, rolling his eyes. “I'm glad it worked out. We thought he'd be pining after you forever. It was getting sad.”

“I liked him too.” Nicky admitted. “I was supposed to be singing for all of you but I kept looking at him, wondering who he was and whether I should ask for his number. Then afterwords he said something like 'you were good' and I wanted to hug him.”

“Soppy eejits.” Shane snorted. “You're as bad as each other.”

“No, I'm definitely worse.” Nicky assured him. He knew he had a tendency to wear his heart on his sleeve, and it was a little frustrating watching Mark pull away, not knowing what was going on in that head of his. “I'm pathetic when I'm in love.”

“You're a pain in my arse already.” Shane winked. “Like, here I am wanting to go to sleep, and you're rabbiting on about your boyfriend.”

“Shut up.” Nicky picked up the other pillow off his bed and hurled it at Shane, laughing when the younger boy caught it.

“Thanks mate. Free pillow.” Shane added it to the pile of his own. These hotel rooms really did have a stupid amount of pillows. “Look, I hope it works out. He hasn't looked this happy in a while.”

Nicky didn't know what to say to that, just snuggled down in bed, thinking if this was happy that he didn't want to see Mark when he was miserable.

 

*

 

“Mark?”

“Yeah.” Mark whispered. The cabin was in darkness, the other two boys snoring across from them. He hadn't been able to sleep. Two nights in and he was already missing home, wanted to call his mother just to hear her voice for a second, just to talk to her. It was too quiet out here.

“You awake?”

“No.” He said sarcastically. Heard a soft laugh in response. “What's up?”

“No. Nothing. Um...” He could hear Jonah breathing. “Can't sleep.”

“Me neither.” Mark rolled on his back, staring up at the blank slats above him, bowed slightly under the weight of the other boy. “I miss home.”

“Yeah.” Jonah sighed. “I don't know. This isn't what I expected. Mum said it was going to be outdoors stuff and that. I didn't know we'd be praying all the time.”

“I know what you mean.” The prayers were interminable. They went on forever and always seemed to come back around to the same topic. “My parents said it was going to be like... performing arts and that.”

“Really? Mum didn't mention that.” Jonah sounded as confused as Mark felt. “That's weird, right?”  
  
“I don't know.” Mark sighed. “I just... I keep feeling like everyone's watching me all the time.”

“It's not just me? Thank god.” There was a soft laugh. “I thought I was getting paranoid.”

“No, like...” Mark chewed his lip, trying to think how to explain. “I was taking a shower before and one of the counsellors kept knocking on all the doors, telling us how much longer we had left.”

“Same!” Jonah exclaimed quietly. “I was like, 'hang on a minute, mate! I've still gotta do me balls!'”

“Gross.” Mark pulled a face, heard a cheeky laugh. “Eejit.”

“Fuckhead.” Jonah snorted. “I don't know.” He went quiet for a bit. “The... the sermons right?” He said finally, his voice slow. “They're really obsessed with the whole gay thing.”

“That's what I was thinking.” Mark nodded. “What's that about?”

“Not sure. Um...” He paused again. “Can... can I tell you something?”

“Sure.” Mark was surprised when two legs swung over the side of the bed, Jonah dropping to land almost silently on the floor next to him, his face cast in shadow from the scant light on the lawn outside. He sat up to give the younger boy room, scooting over while the mattress sank slightly. “What's up?” He asked, once Jonah was settled. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah. Um.” A bashful smile crossed the other lad's face. “Look I... I think I'm gay.”

“Oh.” Mark ran a hand through his hair, not sure how to respond to that. He supposed he didn't object to the idea, though he was a bit surprised. “Okay.” He said finally.

“Don't tell anyone.” Jonah said quietly, his face pleading. “I only told my mum and she started crying and stuff. I don't want...” He rested his chin on knees that were drawn up to his chest. “I'm gay.” He whispered.

Mark put an arm around his shoulders.

“It's fine.” He shrugged. “You know, it's like... the nineties and stuff right? People are cool with it.”

“Are they? Because I got the shit kicked out of me a few months ago because some tosser thought I was checking him out. He dislocated my knee.”

“Shit...” Mark hissed. “I'm sorry."

“It's fine. Mum freaked when the hospital called, and I broke down and told her. I think that's what this is about, maybe. She's hoping the one-two punch of sport and religion will like... straighten me out.”

“She's homophobic, or?”

“No. Maybe. I don't think so. I think she's just worried about me. Thinks I got hurt because I'm gay. I guess she wants to protect me, but...”

“Yeah.” Mark sighed, still not sure what the best thing to say was. “Were you? Checking him out?”

“No. He was fucking ugly. Maybe he was just upset that I wasn't.” Jonah winked, and Mark found himself laughing, covering his mouth so as not to wake the other boys. “I haven't even kissed a boy, so I don't know that I'm particularly good at being gay.”

“It's okay. I haven't kissed any girls, so I'm probably not great at being straight.” Mark snorted. Jonah raised an eyebrow.

“Really? But you're cute!”

Mark felt himself blush.

“Fuck off.”  
  
“No. Seriously.” Jonah's face was going a little pink as well. “You're pretty gorgeous.”  
  
“Yeah. Thanks.” Mark looked away, not sure why his cheeks were so hot. When he looked back Jonah was smiling nervously, a hand on his shoulder.

“It's okay, though? You're not gonna freak?”

“Course not.” Mark shrugged. “You're gay. That's fine.” He nudged the other boy slightly with his shoulder. “I won't tell anyone.”  
  
“Okay. Thank you.” A shaky breath flooded out of the boy next to him. “Look, um... thanks for listening, yeah? Like, I know we don't know each other that well but... I feel like I can talk to you maybe? Like we could be friends?”

“Cool. Definitely.” Mark nodded, saw Jonah smile. “Friends.”

“Friends.” Jonah repeated. “Grand.” They both froze as Gabriel shifted in the bed across from them, the sheets rustling. A torch was going past outside, casting long macabre shadows on the walls, swaying to the beat of soft steps. “Shit, that's the red whistle brigade.” He stood up, going to the ladder again. “Night, Mark.” He whispered, beginning to climb. “Thanks.”

“Night Jonah.” Mark whispered back, not sure what the heavy feeling in his stomach was as he lay back down and watched the torchlight ebb away.

 

*  
  


When Nicky woke it was so late it was early, the sun still down but the first tentative shades of grey starting to criss-cross the darkness. He stood, went to the bathroom, then wandered over to open the balcony doors, wanting a bit of breeze.

There was orange on the horizon, and he stepped out onto the balcony in his boxers to admire the view, stretching in the cool air. The London skyline seemed to go on forever, tiny lights spotted like stars through the darkness.

When he turned to go back inside he realised Mark was two balconies down, curled up on a plastic chair.

“Hey.”

“Hey.” Mark nodded, obviously having noticed Nicky before Nicky had turned to notice him. “What are you doing up?”

“I should ask the same.” Nicky winked, leaning his elbows on the railing and facing the younger boy.

“I asked first.”

“Just wanted a bit of air.” Nicky shrugged. “Your turn.”  
  
“No reason. Couldn't sleep.” Mark yawned, stretching slightly. He looked rumpled, his robe knotted carelessly over his pyjamas, hair all over the place. “Thought I'd watch the sun come up.”

“Bit romantic.”

“Is it?”

“If you're doing it right.” Nicky shrugged. “Mind if I join you?” He pulled a chair over to the corner of his own balcony, as close to Mark as he could get. There was still twenty feet or so between them, but Mark had a put-upon smile on his face so Nicky was taking what he could get. “You sleep okay?”

“Fine.” Mark shrugged. “Just... woke up and I'd run out of sleep, or whatever. You know?”

“I do.” Nicky nodded. “You staying up?”

“I think so.” The horizon was going a little pink now. “I should probably get more sleep, but...”  
  
“Sod that.” He leaned back in his chair, enjoying the morning breeze on his skin. “You want to hang out a bit, and then go get an early breakfast before everyone's up? There used to be a twenty-four hour pancake place around here somewhere.”  
  
“Pancakes?” Mark looked a little interested at that. “Do they do waffles?”

“I think so. Yeah.” Nicky nodded. “It's on me. Breakfast date.”

“Oh...” Mark seemed to pause at that, seemed to shrink a little somehow. “A date?”  
  
“Yeah. I mean... we're dating, right?”

“I... I dunno. I just thought...” He sighed. “I don't know what I thought.” He admitted quietly. Nicky wished he wasn't so far away so he could hug him. “I erm... I've never really dated before. Not like that. With a... a boy. So...”

“Worse places to have your first date, then.” Nicky winked, got a hesitant laugh. God, he was just fucking precious. Red lips and cheeks turning pink in the cool air, eyelashes long and dark when he looked away shyly. “How about I go have a shower, and I'll meet you downstairs in fifteen minutes? Waffles, bacon, and milkshakes for breakfast.”

“You really do live on the edge, don't you?” A smirk was tugging at Mark's mouth. Nicky laughed, standing up.

“Always.” He winked, slipping back in through the sliding doors.

 


	3. Chapter 3

Things seemed to be going okay. The church sessions were like bashing your head into a wall, but on the fourth day they went canoeing a little way down the river, stopping for lunch near a small babbling waterfall. It was beautiful out here, the sound of frogs and crickets making the woods seem endlessly alive. He shared a canoe with Jonah, settling in the back and watching sunlight glint off red hair.

“Sandwich?” Jonah had their pack, a shared bag that had been shoved into the centre of the canoe.

“Thanks.” He took it. The girls had made the sandwiches, were staying at camp to do some sort of cooking activity or something. Mark thought that was a bit unfair – the cooking looked quite like fun and he'd seen a few of the girls looking wistfully at the boys as they'd packed up their stuff and headed for the lake. Sam settled down alongside them with Gabriel, the two boys rummaging through their pack and sorting out their own lunch.

“Alright?”

“My shoulders are killing.” He shook his arms slightly, trying to work out the stiffness from paddling.

“Better than being in church.” Sam pointed out. “You guys seen Robbie?”

“Who?” Jonah asked, glancing around.

“Robbie. Um... red cabin, I think. I was talking to him yesterday but I haven't seen him today. I thought all the boys were coming on this trip.”

“Dunno.” Mark looked around. He sort of knew Robbie, he supposed, though it was only a few days in and he was still trying to link faces to names. “Sort of chubby, brown hair?”

“Yeah, Welsh kid.” Mark was struck, not for the first time, by how many people from other places there were here. Himself, obviously, but then there was Gabriel as well, Jonah. There was also Leon from Belgium, Amanda from The States, Lily from New Zealand, and a couple of guys from Northern Ireland, Tony and Luke. Plenty of British kids, of course, but it seemed odd that so many of them had been sent from so many different places for what seemed like a fairly run-of-the-mill, if pious, summer camp.

“Maybe he's sick or something?” Jonah suggested.

“Robbie?” Gabriel looked up. He didn't speak very often. His English wasn't amazing, but he seemed to understand everything well enough. “After dinner. Ehm... counsellor?”

“A counsellor was talking to him?” Sam nodded. “What about?”

“Don't know.” Gabriel shrugged. “Went to...” He gestured slightly like he was trying to grab the words. “Talking cabin?”

“The guidance officer? Where we had our counsellor sessions?” Gabriel was nodding. “Did you see him after that?”

“No. Ehm...” Gabriel frowned. “No.” He looked helplessly at the three of them. “I don't like here. My father send me.” He said quietly, gaze dropping to his hands. “Want to go home.”

“Yeah.” Jonah said quietly. “I know what you mean.” He took a small bite of his sandwich. Mark did too, not feeling all that hungry all of a sudden but wanting the energy for the trip back. “What did your mum say?”

“Mum... she die. When I'm ten.” Gabriel hitched a shoulder, bringing a knee up to his chest. “Papa work all the time, I take care of brothers and yaya... ehm... grandmother. School... school call one time. Last year. Say...” His face pinched in like he was trying to think. “Say... broken. I am broken. Ehm...” There were tears in his eyes suddenly. “Papa send me here.”

“To camp?”

“To... fix. To make right.” He said softly. “For... for girls.”

None of them seemed to know what to say to that. Mark glanced over, saw Jonah's mouth had fallen open slightly. Sam was staring at his bent up knees, Mark's cheese sandwich half-eaten in one clenched hand.

“You're gay?” Mark urged quietly. “You like boys?”

“Gay. Yes.” Gabriel bit his lip. “I don't want. Maybe they can fix? Get married. Make father proud. I don't... want to go to...” He huffed out a breath. “Infierno. Hell. I go church every day, but... nothing work and then... He get book. Pamphlet. Send here. I don't want to any more. I miss brothers. Friends. My yaya say no, he fine, but papa is right. Papa is always right. He do everything for us.” Gabriel scrubbed a hand across his face. “He say... I got to hell I don't see mamá in heaven. Be alone in... in darkness. Don't want...” He sucked in a shuddering breath. “Sorry.”

“Shit.” Jonah crawled across to settle next to the other boy, putting a careful arm around his shoulders. “It's fine. Shit. It's okay if you're gay. Right?” He looked at the others for approval.

“Yeah. Course.” Mark nodded. Sam was nodding as well. “It's fine.”

“Not fine. No.” Gabriel shook his head. “Want to fix. Get better.”

“You're not sick.”

“Am sick.” Gabriel was still shaking his head, looked like he was trembling a bit. “But I fix. Do what they say and then... then father will be proud and...” He closed his eyes on a shuddering sigh. “I pray. I pray every night and it will go away. Yes? God loves me.”

“I'm sure he does.” Jonah smiled kindly. “But he'll love you if you're straight, gay, upside down or inside out. That's sort of what he's for.”

“I fix, then. He forgive me if I fix.”

Mark was about to interject, to say there was nothing to fix, but all of a sudden a counsellor was striding over, looking purposeful, and Jonah and Gabriel were being separated with a barking order not to touch other campers. Jonah looked like he was about to argue, to say that he was just comforting a friend, when suddenly there were three of them, all in red polos and matching whistles.

Mark watched them separate slowly, scooting to opposite sides of the pile of backpacks. Both of them were told to see their counsellors when they got back to camp, while one of the red whistles scribbled down something on a clipboard.

 

*

 

It was just getting light as they reached the pancake place. It had been quite close by, in the end. They'd asked the tired-looking girl at reception and within ten minutes were already pushing open the door and entering a small, warm, brick cafe that was surprisingly busy at this time of the morning. They were sat beside a table of what looked like student nurses straight off the night shift. Nicky shrugged off his coat, shoving it into the booth beside him and grabbing a menu.

“What'll you have?”

“Erm...” Mark looked at the laminated sheet, lips moving slightly as he pored over it. “Banana caramel waffles and... an orange juice?”

“Brilliant.” Nicky waved over a waitress and a few minutes later was sitting with a cup of coffee steaming in front of him while Mark sipped on his juice. “This is nice.”

“Yeah.” A small smile crept over Mark's mouth. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” Nicky smiled. The walk had been quiet, but not uncomfortable. He'd slid a note under Shane's phone on the dresser to let the other boy know where they'd gone in case management pitched a fit. They were both wearing baseball caps, but nobody seemed to have recognised them. They weren't really that famous anyway, not out of the monkey suits and with only two of them. Nicky took his off, resting it on top of his balled-up coat. “So this is a first date, huh?”

“I guess.” Mark shrugged. “It's um...” He scratched his arm awkwardly. “Look, about the other night...” Nicky raised an eyebrow, but didn't speak, not wanting to derail his train of thought when he was actually starting to talk about it. “Sorry.”

“Oh.” That was it, apparently. No explanation, no nothing. “For what?”

“Just. Erm... You know. I've been a bit stressed. Had a bad day, so...” There was a blotchy flush rising to his cheeks. “I uh... I didn't meant to be weird.”

“You weren't weird. You were upset about something.” Nicky prompted. “You can tell me what it is. I won't judge.”

“No. Nothing.” Mark shrugged. “Can we forget it?”

“We can stop talking about it if you want.” Nicky wasn't going to forget it though, no. Not the way Mark had fallen apart like that, babbling religious nonsense and rocking on the floor. “Can I ask you something else?” He saw Mark glancing surreptitiously at the other tables. They were all too caught up to be eavesdropping and Nicky didn't know why they'd bother. Mark looked a bit paranoid, though.

“I guess, yeah.”

“Would your parents be okay with you being gay?”

Mark seemed to go pale, looked down into his juice like he was figuring out how to drown himself in it. Nicky reached across the table, settling his grip down on top of a hand that flinched away slightly.

“Bit personal.” He said finally, still not looking up.

“Is it?” Nicky tilted his head questioningly. “My parents are fine. They keep asking if I'm seeing anyone, actually.”

“Oh.” Blue eyes looked up, finally, then just as quickly dropped away. “What did you say?”

“I said there's a boy I like very much but I'm not sure how he feels about me yet.”

Mark was going red again. It was sort of gorgeous. Nicky squeezed his hand gently, watched full lips mouth over words that weren't there.

“I'm not supposed to be gay.” Mark said finally, looking up. “Please don't tell my parents.” His voice sounded small and young, like a twelve year old caught accidentally breaking a window, like he was afraid he'd be grounded. “I... I tried not to be.”

“Did you?”

“Yeah.” Mark huffed out a breath. His eyes looked dark and exhausted. “I don't want to be. I want to like girls.”

“Why?”

“Because... because it's the right thing to do. I don't want to be wrong. It's not supposed to...” He exhaled slowly, and they both looked up when the waitress came over with their food, sliding plates in front of them on the table.

Mark wouldn't talk about it after that, kept turning the conversation away to safer topics, and after a few minutes the conversation stopped entirely, dropping away to the sounds of Mark slowly, mechanically, chewing his waffles while Nicky stared at his pancakes with a twisting stomach.

They walked quietly back to find the others having their own breakfast in the hotel restaurant. They had a flight in a few hours, headed back to Dublin, and the two of them went upstairs to sort out their luggage, Mark's door closing behind him with a decisive thunk before Nicky could follow him inside.

 

*

 

Neither Jonah nor Gabriel came to dinner that night. Mark and Sam sat in relative silence, picking at their food, which apparently the girls had made. It was fine. Macaroni and cheese and steamed veggies. Not amazing, but palatable enough.

Robbie was back. He was sitting at a table by himself, staring blankly at an untouched plate. Sam went over to say hi, but he just mumbled something and didn't look up, and Sam gave up after a minute.

“Is he okay?” Mark said quietly.

“Don't know.” Sam bit his lip. “Didn't say anything. He just...” They watched a counsellor go over and sit across from Robbie, saying something quiet and earnest. The boy nodded, looking down at his food again. “This is fucked.” He said. “Where the hell are Gabriel and Jonah?”

“Counsellor's office.” Mark shrugged. “I feel so sorry for Gabriel, though. That's awful, that he hates himself that much.”

“He's gay. It's gotta be hard, if that's what his dad's like.” Sam poked at his macaroni. “My best friend at home's gay.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I mean... don't tell my parents of course, because they'd lose it. We've been friends since we were five, and a couple of years ago he like... he tried to kiss me and I'm like 'whoa, dude, what the fuck?' Turns out he's had this crush on me.”

“Whoops.” Mark laughed. “How'd that turn out?”

“Fine. Well, not at first. I sort of freaked out. Might have given him a black eye.” Pale skin turned slightly red with an embarrassed blush. “I was a jerk, but... he's always been my best friend so in the end we made up. He's still Theo. I guess I always got brought up thinking gay people were going to like... give you AIDS and touch kids and that, but... it's fucking Theo, right? He has all the good Playstation games. We bunked off school when we were twelve and saw Super Mario Brothers.”

“That was a terrible movie.”

“It was awful.” Sam laughed. “My parents would freak if they found out. My dad used to be in the army. I don't think he was happy when it turned out I liked computers more than running laps. I'd be out on my arse if he thought I was hanging around with fags. You do _not_ want to cross my dad.”

“So you don't want to go into the army then.” Mark teased. Sam shook his head, smirking.

“No. I want to make like... like computers and stuff? I like pulling them apart and putting them back together. I go to the dump and take anything I can find. I built my own computer at home.”

“That's really cool!” Mark exclaimed. “It works and everything?”

“Yeah. Well... it did. Dad threw it out the bedroom window when he found out I'd been doing that instead of my homework.”

“Shit. I'm sorry.” Mark hissed. Sam shrugged.

“It's cool. I built a better one. There was a tech camp on this summer, but he said I couldn't go. Put me here instead. Said it'd make a man of me. He drove me three hours to the front gate when I refused to get on the bus. I expected military school or something, but it turns out to be Jesus central.”

They looked up as the chair next to them pulled out. A girl sat down next to them with her tray, maybe seventeen, with long, curly blonde hair and black librarian glasses. Her face was pinched and awkward, and there was a counsellor behind her, arms crossed over her red polo shirt.

“Groups of three or more.” The counsellor said flatly. The girl grimaced, looking at them apologetically while the older woman walked away.

“Sorry.” She said quietly. “I wanted to sit by myself, but they said if I did I had to sit with a counsellor, so...”

“It's fine.” Sam smiled. “Hi.”

“Hi.” She grimaced. “Charlotte. Charlie.” They introduced themselves. She was quite pretty. Mark could see Sam checking her out already. She pushed her glasses up her nose, looking down at her plate. There was a small silver crucifix around her neck, which Mark was about to comment on before Sam beat him to it.

“This camp'd be up your alley, then?” He said, gesturing at her throat. She looked down, touching the cross when she realised what he was talking about.

“Oh... it's my grandmother's.” She twitched her collar over it, smiling awkwardly. “She gave it to me for my birthday before she died, so... She wasn't actually that religious, but it's an heirloom, you know? My mum was really pissed off when she gave it to me instead of her. She's mega-religious.”

“Fun.” Sam snorted. “You're not?”

“No. I mean... I believe in God and that, but... not like her. She's a bit born-again. My grandmother always used to say she was a bit of a hypocrite, considering what she was like when she was a teenager. They didn't really get along.” She chewed her lip, nudging her macaroni with her fork. Mark realised that after all this time none of them had really eaten much of anything, were all staring at almost-full plates. “My dad's Jewish. She doesn't get on with him either. But, you know...” She pushed the plate away. “How's the macaroni?"

“It's fine.” Mark took a bite in emphasis. “Thanks for like... making it.”

“Yeah, like I had a choice.” She sighed. “How was your canoe thing?”

“Fine.” Sam shrugged. It had been okay, but for some reason it hadn't felt all that fun. There'd been a bit of mucking around to start with, some boys trying to capsize each other, but that had been thwarted fairly quickly until it was just them mechanically paddling until they were told to stop. “We went. We came back.”

“Yeah.” She chewed her lip. “I just sort of want to call home, you know?”

“Me too.” Mark said quietly. “I said I'd call my parents when I got here but then I'm not allowed.” He wasn't sure he wanted to now. He was getting a feeling for what this place actually was, though he hadn't quite admitted it to himself yet. A lot of gay kids, a lot of prayer and way too much counselling and preaching. If his parents really had sent him here for that, then...

The rest of him wanted to find a phone, call them, tell them this was a horrible mistake and could he please get on the next flight back?

“I don't even want to call my mum. I just... I didn't get to speak to my girlfriend before I left and mum said she'd let her know but it all happened so fast and...” She shook her head. “I don't want her to think I just ran off or something.”

“You have a girlfriend?” Sam looked a little bit disappointed.

“Oh. Yeah. Emma. Um...” She poked at her food. “We've not been going out that long, but my dad likes her. Better than any boyfriends I've had. I think he's just glad she's not likely to get me pregnant.” A soft laugh spilled over smirking lips.

Dinner finished soon after. They left half-eaten meals at the table and went to chapel, sat quietly on uncomfortable pews while the chaplain told them about the sins of fornication.

 

*

 

“Nicky?”

Nicky opened his eyes, looking over into big blue ones that looked at him shyly. He'd fallen asleep not long before, the slow rocking of the bus soothing and disorientating at the same time.

“Hey.” He whispered. Mark was laid on the bunk across from him, the blankets all tugged up around his chin. They hadn't spoken much since breakfast the day before – hadn't really had a chance to. The radio tour was knackering, going around to every regional station they could find and telling the same stories over and over again. They'd just worked their way through Dublin, Wicklow and Wexford, and were beginning to wind their way across to the other coast, were hitting Cork and Kerry in the morning. It was an all-week gig, but it was manic, and there seemed to be more and more girls outside every station, looking slightly hysterical with excitement.

“I can't sleep.”

“Oh.” Nicky looked at the oddly small shape of the boy across from him, then tugged back the blankets. “Get in, if you like?”

“I...” He glanced around at the others, as if to check they were asleep. Nicky didn't know what the point was, they all knew anyway, but Mark had never seemed to quite acknowledge that fact, was holding it to his chest like it was still a big secret. The blankets were pulled back, and a second later there was a warm, soft boy all snuggled up to his side, dark hair laying in the crook of his neck.

“Hey.” Nicky whispered, stroking through it with gentle fingers. Mark felt tense. “Wanna talk about it?”

“About what?”

“Why you can't sleep?”

“No reason. Just can't.” He yawned, hand covering his mouth. Nicky kissed his forehead, holding him in a little closer. “Tired.”

“Poor thing.” Nicky murmured, heard a shy snort. “You're lovely.” He felt Mark relax a little, nuzzling into his chest. “I'm madly in love with you.”

“Yeah?” Mark whispered. There was a heavy pause, and when he looked down those gorgeous eyes were closed, Mark's face half hidden by Nicky's chest. “Why?” He said finally. “I'm not special.”

“You're extremely special.” Nicky smiled, tracing his thumb over the curve of an eyebrow. This felt more like the Mark he'd met at first. Hesitant and shy, but not tangibly frightened. “You're a sweet, sexy boy and I like you very much.”

“You're crazy.”

“I know.” Nicky kissed his forehead, heard a soft laugh. “But you're still lovely.”

“Okay.” Mark didn't believe him, but Nicky didn't mind. He stroked his hand down a long back, felt Mark roll slightly into his touch. “Do you like being gay?”

“What do you mean?” Nicky laughed, surprised by the odd question. “It's what I am. It's like having blue eyes or blonde hair.”

“No, but...” Mark sighed. “You don't mind that you're going to hell?”

“Hell? Am I?” Nicky felt his eyebrows wrinkle in confusion. “Why? What did I do?”

“You... you know. God doesn't want us doing this. I tried to be normal but...” He sighed out a shaking breath. “I'm sick. They tried to fix me but I'm still sick. I could have changed, but maybe... maybe I didn't want it enough. I was wrong.”

“You're perfect, love.” Nicky felt his heart drop when he realised there were tears standing in Mark's eyes. He tried to tilt up a trembling chin, but Mark held firm, tucking his head into Nicky's shoulder. “Why would you be wrong?”

“Because I'm gay. I know I am. But I don't have to... it's temptation, isn't it? I could have said no. Like... I could say no to smoking or drinking or anything else, but this I... I can't. The rest of me wants to do it no matter what my brain says. I don't want to like it. I tried to stop...”

“I don't think it quite works like that.” Nicky chuckled. “Giving up dick isn't the same as giving up smoking.” Mark still wasn't looking at him, so he shuffled down instead, his head dropping off the pillow until they were face to face. Mark closed his eyes, red lips caught by his teeth. “Why won't you look at me?”

“Because...” He sucked in a deep breath. “Because you're beautiful and I want you and I'm not supposed to.” Eyes fluttered open again when Nicky kissed his nose. “It was... bad when we were just kissing but... then you said you loved me and I...”

“You don't love me back?”

“I do. That's the problem.” Mark whispered. “Now we're going on dates and I feel like it's gone too far. I've... come too far now. It's real and...” His hands covered his eyes. Nicky kissed the backs of them, felt Mark shake in his arms. “I'm sorry.”

“Marky...” Nicky breathed. He held him tighter, this shivering, frightened boy. “You're perfect. There's not a single thing wrong with you.” He cupped a damp cheek, thumb stroking carefully at the hands still covering Mark's eyes. “Why didn't you tell me all this sooner?”

“No...” Mark sobbed. “Can't. They fixed it. They made me better.”

“Who did?”

“No.” He heaved in a panicked breath. “No."

“Love...” Nicky kissed him, nosing in as close as he could with Mark's hands between them. For a second he felt lips stutter, harden against his mouth. Then, slowly, they began to respond, Nicky coaxing them gently, kissing over a little of Mark's lips at a time until they softened, parting slightly as Mark's breathing got heavier.

“No.” Mark murmured. “I can stop.”

“You can.” Nicky replied, kissing him again. “I'm not forcing you.”

Mark didn't reply to that, but a second later fingers curled into his hair and Nicky smiled, feeling the kiss deepen, salty with tears.

“I want you.” Mark whispered tearfully. “Make me stop.”

“No.” Nicky breathed. “Would never make you do anything.” Lips caught his again, sucking desperately at his mouth. “Just want to make you feel good.” He heard Mark sob, felt fingers clench in his hair. There was stiffness against him, and Nicky rubbed slowly into it, his hand closing gently on a warm, firm arse as Mark began to rock.

“No.” Mark whispered. “Shouldn't.”

“Stop then.” Nicky replied. “But I want you. I want you to come, because I love you and I think you're utterly beautiful.” There was a whining whimper, soft lips capturing his again. He moved them a little faster, felt Mark match the pace.

“Oh...” It was a soft groan, Mark's hands twitching as he began to tense. “Nicky...” He sounded like he was trying to warn himself about something, his words heavy with alarm. “I'm... I can't stop...”

“Don't want you to.” Nicky gasped, feeling the hard friction start to affect him too. “I want to feel you. Want to feel you come with me.”

“Unh...” Mark's eyes screwed shut, his face burying itself in Nicky's neck. Nicky carded through his hair, his other hand still on a slowly rocking arse. “Please...” He panted. “Feels too good. I don't...”

“You feel amazing.” Nicky assured him, heard a muffled cry, felt the tension in both of them hit the bottom and begin to corkscrew up, climbing for the inevitable. “I can't wait for you to come."

“Ah...” He felt Mark's whole body lurch with a damp, bitten off cry. “No... I... please...”

“Yes.” Nicky whispered. “It's fine. There's nothing wrong with this.” He yanked them harder together in emphasis, felt hands scrabble at his shoulders. “Nothing wrong. How could it be wrong when it feels so good, love?” He was starting to get breathless, the words harder to get out. “How could loving you be wrong?”

“I'm...” Teeth scraped over his shoulder. “Uh...”

“That's it.” Nicky kissed his forehead. Mark's hips were jerking, almost snapping as he circled the edge. “That's it. Oh god, yes...” He bit his lip, feeling his own climax rippling through the tops of his thighs, pinching in his belly. “Marky... yes... you're gonna make me come...”

Mark lost it with a pained sob, clinging to him hard while his hips kept moving, wetness filling his boxers while Nicky kissed every bit he could reach, his hand still guiding him, other one holding him in like cradling a child. Then he was gone himself, eyes squeezing shut as he lost himself in Mark, in the scent of his sweat, in the warm, desperate feel of him, his boxers soaking through and making the friction that much more painful until they were collapsed against each other, Mark shuddering in his arms.

“Perfect.” Nicky breathed, not letting Mark move even though he could feel him pulling away. “I love you.” He murmured, feeling fingers claw at his shoulders.

Mark lay for a long time after that, buried into Nicky's chest while they lay there, wet and sticky. Nicky held him, tried to comfort as best he could, but when Mark finally got up and stumbled into the bathroom he could hear whispered prayers through the closed door, the sound of soft crying.

He stayed awake until Mark came back out and silently climbed into his own bed, facing the wall and pulling the blankets up over his head.

 


	4. Chapter 4

The other boys were in the cabin when Mark came back from chapel, Gabriel asleep on his bunk. Mark thought Jonah was asleep too for a second, laid on his bunk with his eyes closed and the blankets pulled up, but halfway into grabbing a jacket he heard him shift, and stood up to look, locking with eyes that had fluttered sleepily open.

“Hey.”

“Hey.” Mark smiled. “Where you been?”

“Nowhere. Just... guidance counsellor. They wanted to talk to us.”

“About what?” It couldn't have been that stupid thing with him hugging Gabriel at lunch – that would be ridiculous.

“Nothing. Just talking. I think they're getting around to everyone. Wanted to talk about my family, mostly. My dad and that.”

“Why?”

“Dunno. It was kind of okay, actually.” His lips curved into a small smile. “Get some stuff off my chest, like. I don't know what they talked to Gabriel about. How was dinner?”

“Fine. Macaroni.” He shrugged, bending down to tidy up his sheets. They got constant contraband and cleanliness inspection, and half the time it came without warning. He'd seen the girls from pink cabin scrubbing the steps of the chapel as punishment for their beds being a mess and really didn't want the hassle. “Did you eat?"

“Yeah. I had a couple of sandwiches.” He yawned. “I'm wrecked, though. They said I could miss campfire if I wanted to go to bed, so I took them up on it.”

“You don't want to sing about Jesus for an hour?”

“Ooh, yes please.” Jonah rolled his eyes. “I'm fine. Gonna crash.”

“Okay.” Mark finished sorting the bed and tugged on his jacket. “I'll see you in the morning, I guess?”

“Cool.” A yawn split his face, then he snuggled down, closing his eyes. Mark wished him goodnight and wandered back out of the cabin, tugging his jacket closed as he felt a cold breeze shiver over his skin.

 

*

 

Nicky was sat up the top of the bus watching the road roll by. There were supposed to be hitting Cork in about fifteen minutes, and he'd been idly staring out, watching the scenery and trying to wake himself up a bit before they had to go be interesting on the radio.

He'd not slept well at all the night before. He hadn't been able to tell if Mark had fallen asleep or not, and hadn't wanted to drop off himself in case he was needed. He felt horrible. Felt like, as much as he'd liked the feeling of Mark against him, as much evidence as there had been for Mark feeling the same way, he'd pushed too far. Made tears fall from those big blue eyes, caused the panic prayers he could hear mumbled through the bathroom door.

He wasn't sure if he understood or not. He got the whole religious thing, of course, had grown up in Ireland after all, but he didn't know how to approach it. How to make Mark believe it was okay. How to get past that wall the younger boy had put up.

“Hey.”

He turned, so lost in thought he hadn't noticed Kian coming upstairs. The other boy was yawning, his hair all messy from sleep and pyjamas twisted. Nicky nodded, scooting over so he could sit down.

“Morning.”

“Mmm...” Kian leaned his head back against the couch, eyes falling closed again. “It's too early.”

“I know.” Nicky sighed. “Ready for today?”

“No.” Kian yawned again. “Doesn't matter, I suppose. If I can't be bothered we can just wind Bryan up and let him loose.”

“Get a Red Bull into him and we'll be fine.” Nicky agreed, heard a soft, sleepy laugh. “This is crazy, right?” Kian nodded in agreement, his eyes still closed.

“Yeah. I think some of the girls are actually following us, you know? I've seen the same one at least three times now.”

“What, like following the bus?”

“Yeah.” Kian nodded. “I guess it's good. It feels weird that we have fans. We've had one song.”

“Maybe they just really, really like it?”

“Maybe.” Blue eyes opened, ringed with sleep. “How's Mark? He alright?” Nicky shrugged, not sure where the question had come from and not sure how to answer it.

“In what sense?”  
  
“Just in general.” Kian shrugged. “Thought he looked a bit stressed this week.”

“You'd have to ask him.”

“Have you ever tried to ask Mark anything?” Kian laughed, rolling his eyes. “He'll say he's fine, no matter if he is or not.”

“Why are you asking me, then?”

“Oh, come on.” Kian chuckled, closing his eyes again. “You can knock off the act Nico. We all know about you and Mark. It's fine. Whatever. Just wanted to make sure he was alright.”

“He's Mark.” Nicky shrugged. “I don't know.” He tucked his legs up to his chest, resting his chin on his knees. “You ever get the feeling that no matter how well you know someone there's like a whole other person hiding behind them that you can't see?”

“That's definitely Mark, then.” Kian snorted. “Mind like a trap, that one.” He looked over, eyes catching the light in a way that was oddly piercing. “Is there something wrong?”  
  
“No, not really.” Nicky shook his head, not wanting to go blabbing about stuff he didn't even understand himself yet. “I don't know. Maybe it's just early days. We get along and that. It's probably just being together all the time – it's hard to say what's a normal relationship when you're all crammed together.”

“That's gotta be weird.” Kian agreed. “You gonna make it official eventually?”

“Dunno. Don't want to make it like... a thing.” Nicky chewed his lip, trying to think. “Can I ask you a really weird question?” Kian shrugged, nodding curiously. “Mark's parents... would they be okay with him being gay?”

“Hm...” Kian sank down a little in his chair, eyebrows knitting in as he thought. “Dunno.” He said finally. “They always doted on him a lot. Like, he was a bit of a mammy's boy. At the same time... they were pretty religious. At church a lot, I guess. I honestly don't know.” He looked up, pursing his lips. “Is that what's up with him?”

“I don't know.” Nicky paused as the bus began to slow down. He looked out the window as it turned into a side-street and pulled to a stop, the sign for the radio station just visible on the corner. “Shit, we'd better get dressed.”

“Nah, do it in our pyjamas. They won't know the difference.” Kian stood up, yawning.

“Lads, are you up there?”

“Of course they fucking are, Shane.” He head Bryan say. “Where do you think they went? You think they jumped off on the motorway?”

“They could be in the toilet.”

“Both of them? Anyway, Mark's in the toilet.” Bryan argued. “He just said he was going to the toilet.”

“We're up here!” Nicky called out, just to put everyone out of their misery. Kian was laughing, already starting to make his way to the stairs. “Nobody panic!”

“I wasn't!” Bryan called back. “Anybody got a Red Bull?”

 

*

 

The next morning passed fairly uneventfully. He ate some cereal, chatted with the other boys. Jonah seemed his old self but Gabriel was quiet, almost blank, his arm moving mechanically while he emptied the bowl. Charlie came to sit with them after the red whistle brigade told her off for sitting alone again, and Sam spent most of the meal looking wistfully at her, which was sort of adorable. Mark supposed she was quite pretty.

Chapel was fine as well. It wasn't so much fire and brimstone as talking about family and how important it was, which was kind of nice. It made Mark miss his own family even more, but he had a full day sorted and was quite looking forward to the hike that afternoon, especially now that Jonah was back. The other boy seemed upbeat and relaxed today, was chatting along happily as they walked back to their cabin.

They had a quick tidy just in time, because a few minutes later there was a knock on the door for contraband check. It was weird, watching two counsellors go through their bags and feel under the mattresses, even pushing their hands inside the pillowcases. Mark wasn't sure what they thought they were looking for. Alcohol, maybe, or cigarettes, but they'd seemed fairly obsessed with having the place tidy and were now messing it up. They went to leave a few minutes later, telling them to tidy up again.

“But we just did!”

One of the counsellors, a shortish blonde man of maybe twenty-five, turned back to look at Sam.

“Do it again.”

“But...” Sam scowled, rolling his eyes. Before Mark knew what was happening, the counsellor had walked back into the room, stepping right up to the younger boy, so close they were almost touching.

“Outside. Now.” He pointed. Sam's mouth opened and closed around words that weren't there. Mark didn't know what to do. Whether to speak up and risk getting in trouble too.

“I...” Sam obeyed, trudging out the door. A second later a bucket was thrust into his hand.

“Fill it up.”

Sam glared, heading over to the nearby tap. A few minutes later he was motioned onto his knees to scrub the steps outside their cabin. He looked like he was about to argue, but then the counsellor bent down next to him, said something in his ear, and he stopped, his whole face going hard and blank. He got off his knees, bending down from the waist, and began to scrub.

“Tidy up.” The counsellor said again. “Or you'll be joining your friend. And no talking.” He sat down on the grass to watch, and the three of them exchanged looks, not sure what to do. Gabriel went inside first, and he and Jonah followed.

They tidied quickly. When they came outside Sam was still scrubbing, bent double and his face pinched and pale with discomfort. The counsellor stood up, going inside to have a look, and came back out.

“Get up.” Sam did, a hand going to his back while he winced. Mark bit his lip, feeling utterly helpless. They were dismissed, and the four of them trudged across the grass silently, Sam's head hung low.

“What did he say to you?” Jonah whispered. But Sam just shook his head and sped up, walking on without them. Though for a second Mark thought he saw tears standing in his eyes.

He was called into the counsellor's office after lunch. It was Ben again, in his blue polo shirt, smiling cheerfully and offering him a glass of water. He took it, sinking down into the same chair as last time while Ben asked questions about how he was, occasionally typing things on his computer. Mark tried to see what they were, but the screen was turned away.

He was asked a few questions about his family, whether they got along. Mark said that they did. They always had. He was close to both his parents, had always done things as a family when he was growing up and still did now, even with life starting to get in the way a bit. Ben asked him whether he'd ever felt ignored by his father. Mark shrugged, not knowing how to answer the question. His dad had always been around when he'd needed him, for a chat or to give him a lift somewhere or whatever. Sure, he was at work a lot, but so was his mam, and everybody's parents worked.

Ben asked him if anyone had ever tried to recruit him to the homosexual lifestyle.

“Sorry, what?” He managed, trying to figure out if he should be laughing or not.

“We're noticing a disturbing trend among teenagers to be recruited early, as the brain is still developing. It's important to be aware of the risks so you can avoid them.” Ben seemed perfectly serious, leaning forward in his seat, his face earnest. “It's a dangerous mental disorder, and someone of your age is deeply susceptible.” A hand landed on Mark's knee, and he looked down, not sure what to say. “It's important to stay on the right path.”

“Erm... recruited? No.” Mark tried to pull back a little, but the hand stayed on his leg. “Why?”

“Tell me about your interests.” He leaned back, and Mark felt a little of the tension ebb out of him. “You like to do musical theatre?”

“Did... my parents say that?” Mark craned his neck, trying to look at the screen. “Yeah, I mean, I like singing and stuff...” He shifted uncomfortably.

“How does it make you feel?”

“I... I don't know. It's fun. I get to hang out with my friends.”

“Your friends...” Ben tapped a couple of keys. “Have you had any girlfriends, Mark?”

“No. I mean... I like girls, I guess...” He swallowed, wishing he could muster more enthusiasm, especially with the direction this conversation seemed to be going. “I'm not gay.”

“I'm not saying you are.” Ben nodded. “But it's good that you've self-actualised your orientation. What we'd like to do is make sure you're not at danger of being led astray.” He leaned forward again. “Did you know that fifty percent of gay men have more than three hundred partners in their lives?” Mark baulked, not sure what to say to that. It didn't sound right. Sounded like an awful lot, in fact.

“I didn't. No.” He managed. “Is that true?”

“It is.” Ben nodded. “Gay men are also far more susceptible to alcoholism, psychiatric disorders, drug addiction, suicide, domestic violence and sexually transmitted diseases, as well as certain cancers and lifestyle-related illnesses.”

“I...” That didn't seem right either. “Did my parents send me here because they think I'm gay?” He had to ask the question or go mad.

“No, they felt that our particular targeted support could help you as you become an adult. It's a confusing time, and a little bit of a nudge in the right direction is always a good idea.” He smiled, and his eyes were so kind Mark didn't know what to say. “Think of it like studying for a test. Maybe you can pass if you study on your own, but sometimes it's nice to have someone who's sat it before to help you out, take away some of the confusion.”

Mark took another sip of his water, trying to think. He wasn't sure how to phrase this next part without incriminating himself, but he didn't know how else to put it.

“What if I _was_ gay?”

“We want to help you, Mark. Your parents do too. There's nothing wrong with having those feelings, but you have to appreciate that it is a mental disorder, and with therapy, structure and determination you can overcome them and go on to live a happy and normal life. Your parents love you. They don't want you ending up sick or dead, knowing you weren't able to be the best you could be, knowing you won't be reunited in heaven.”

“But I'm not gay.”

“That's good. We're on the right track then.” Ben smiled. It seemed to be all he did, smile and talk slow and level, his voice oddly hypnotic. “Have you made any friends so far?”

He mentioned Jonah, Sam and Gabriel. Charlie as well, though Ben seemed to take extra interest in that, asking if he thought she was attractive. Mark shrugged, saying she was pretty but Sam seemed to fancy her.

After a while Ben checked his watch, smiled, and stood up. Mark did too, feeling like he'd somehow drifted sideways into another dimension. Ben asked him to come back in two days time for a catch-up and sent him on his way.

He stumbled out of the guidance office, tugging his jacket tighter around him and trying to figure out what the hell had just happened. He headed over to where they were to meet for the hike, barely registering the group of boys bent double and silently scrubbing the steps in front of their cabins, each one being watched over by a counsellor.

 

*

 

They were all sat together up the top of the bus, the Playstation on while Kian and Bryan stared determinedly at Mortal Kombat, Shane shouting out instruction as the two of them battled it out. Nicky sat on the floor at Mark's feet, leaning against the couch and watching the screen.

“Fuck!” Bryan threw down the controller, Kian whooping and lifting his hands above his head in a cheer.

“Who's next, fuckers?” Kian taunted. “Two down. Let's do this! Mark! Take me on, mate!”

“No thanks.” Mark snorted. “I'm going to go have a nap, as brilliant as getting my arse kicked sounds.” He stood up, stretching, and Nicky looked up, watching as a little strip of skin was revealed at the bottom of his t-shirt. “Wake me when we get to...” He paused, glancing around. “Where are we going next?”

“Limerick.” Shane offered. It was getting later into the afternoon now, and Nicky was sort of hoping they were going to stop in a hotel for the night. He was knackered, and quite wanted to sleep in a real bed.

“When we get to Limerick.” Mark yawned, looking like he quite needed a real bed too. He stumbled to the stairs and staggered down. Kian held out the controller to Nicky.

“Come on, Nix.”

“Thanks, but...” Normally he would, get all competitive and try to knock Kian off his fucking high-horse, but he felt odd and directionless today, a drifting sense of unease. Worse now that Mark was out of his sight. “I might take a nap too.”

“Oooh...” They all chorused, winks and raised eyebrows all over the place. Bryan made an obscene gesture.

“Fuck off.” He rolled his eyes, heading down the stairs as well to the sound of catcalls and jeers. The bottom half of the bus was quiet, and he popped up front to look out the window and chat to the driver, who was staring fixedly at the road. They were due to stop in about an hour, apparently, just enough time for a bit of shut-eye. He wandered back into the sleeping area, hands gripping the bunks carefully as he felt the floor sway beneath him on the corners.

Mark was already asleep, apparently, or doing a good job of feigning it. Laid on his side, the blankets up to his chin and eyes shut. Nicky paused for a moment, admiring long lashes and pink cheeks, rosy lips parted slightly in sleep.

He leaned down, kissing him lightly on the forehead. Mark didn't seem to react, so he sat down on his own bed, tugging off his jeans for a bit of comfort. He was just laying down when Mark's eyes cracked open.

“Sleeping?”

“Yeah.” Nicky yawned. “Tired.”

“Sorry.”  
  
“Not your fault.” He snuggled down a little more. “This tour's just a bit of a bugger. Want to sleep in a real bed.” 

“Yeah.” Mark nodded. “There's not enough room to stretch out. I'm all squished.” He stretched in emphasis, toes touching the end of the bunk.

“I know. It's like being at camp or something.” Nicky laughed, rolling onto his back. “I went to football camp when I was like... fourteen. This is still nicer. We didn't have a Playstation or a minibar.”

“I never went to camp.”

Nicky looked over. Mark seemed to have frozen somehow, like all of him was paused.

“Really? Shane said you went to summer camp one time.”

“Oh...” Mark's tongue flicked out, licking his lips in a way that was almost nervous. “Yeah. Erm... it was just like... bible camp, I guess? It barely counted. It was all just praying and stuff.”

“Where was that?”

“Um... we landed at Blackpool airport and drove for like an hour so... around there, I guess? It was on a river.”

“You don't know where it was?”

“I dunno. It was a long time ago.” Mark tugged his blankets up a little higher while Nicky watched. “It was boring. What was football camp like?”

Nicky knew what Mark was trying to do, but it just seemed too hard to argue, to try to wade through the treacle of dodged questions Mark was leaving in his wake. Instead, he started talking about his own camp, about how it was good fun and they'd all muck about, but it was still hard work. About how he and a few of his mates snuck out after curfew and put toothpaste on all the door handles of the other cabins, creeping back to their beds and giggling together until they got scolded for still being up.

“Did you get in trouble?”

“For staying up? Not really. For the toothpaste? Yeah.” Nicky chuckled. “We were running laps for _ages_. Admittedly we were doing that anyway, so honestly it probably gave us a bit of a head-start. It was camp. Everybody mucks around at camp.”

“Do they?"

“Course.” Nicky shrugged. Though considering Mark had been to bible camp he supposed it had been a bit more strict than he was used to. Not that football camp hadn't been strict. Drills for hours, bruises and scrapes everywhere... “The drills were killers. I could barely move once I got into bed. I think I still have blisters on my hands from the goalie gloves. Brilliant couple of weeks, though.”

“Do you miss football?”

“I don't know. Yes and no.” He shrugged. “I guess I wish it had worked out, but then I wouldn't be doing this. Who would have thought it, right? Bit of a sideways jump. Plus I wouldn't have met you.” He offered a smile, saw Mark shrink slightly into the blankets, though his eyes were assessing. “That's definitely a bonus.”

“Yeah.” There was a little smile flickering across his lips. Nicky felt himself glow, wanted to go over and snuggle up with him. But the other lads were awake, the bus driver not too far away, and he didn't want to push when Mark seemed so determined to keep things under wraps.

“What did you want to do? If you hadn't done this?”

“I don't know.” The blankets shifted down a little, revealing a shoulder clad in a black t-shirt. “I thought about doing teaching, maybe, but I hadn't really decided. I guess there's still time if it doesn't last.”

“You don't think it will?”

“I don't know. I hope it does, but... well, we could just be a one-hit-wonder, right? I know Louis and Simon and that are good, but you never know. I sort of don't want to get too hung up on it, basically, and then be disappointed if it falls apart.”

“That's pessimistic.”

“I don't think so.” Mark shook his head. “It's kind of nice, actually. I don't want to take it for granted. I don't want to get ahead of myself and not enjoy it while it's happening.”

“You're enjoying it?”

“Yeah.” Cheeks went a little pink. “I'm not good at like... the interviews and clothes stuff. I know I'm not. I know why we do it, but... I just wanted to sing. More than anything. It feels funny to have what you wanted.”

“You worked for it, though.”

“I know. And it was hard, but... it's good. Feeling like it's paid off. I know a lot of it's luck too, but it's cool knowing that I did this. With you lot, obviously, but...” He huffed out a breath, looking a little self-conscious from his impromptu speech. “I wish everything was that easy. You know. You put in the effort and you can be whatever you want.”

“I suppose it depends what you want to be.” Nicky pointed out. “I mean, if I wanted to be a Jedi, no amount of effort's going to make that happen. Some things you just are.”

“I think it's the trying that matters, though. You might not be able to change what you are, but you can try to be a better version of that.”

“You mean like... going to the gym and that?”

“I guess. Yeah.” The blanket was tugged a little higher. “I might... try to get some sleep. Erm...” Big blue eyes looked at Nicky, like they were begging him for something. Nicky wanted to reach out. To touch a soft cheek, feel skin on his, but Mark was already rolling over to face the wall, and all he could see was the shape under the blanket, blank and hidden.

 


	5. Chapter 5

They stopped in Limerick for the night. It was late after doing the local chart show, even later after signing singles and posters outside the radio station for almost an hour. They were booked into a hotel and Nicky dithered for a minute, not sure which room he was supposed to go to. Then Mark glanced at him, a sort of surreptitious, questioning look, as though he was asking Nicky to make that decision for him so he didn't have to.

So Nicky followed him in, sinking down onto the bed while Mark went to have a shower.

He must have fallen asleep, because when he woke Mark was laying down next to him, arm wrapping shyly around Nicky's waist.

He smiled, pulling the younger boy in a little closer and kissing his hair. Fingers stroked his back slowly, as if testing, and he returned the embrace, rubbing over tense shoulders and feeling Mark snuffle into his neck.

“Hey.” He whispered, heard Mark whisper it back. “Love you.” The boy against him was warm and soft and he closed his eyes again, sinking into the feeling and trying to memorise the shape of him, the press of thighs against his, of belly and chest squashed up to him, of the curve of muscle in his back and the slight tickle of toes against his feet.

“Tired.” Mark muttered. Nicky nodded.

“The lads are going out tonight.” He remarked. “Shall we stay here and watch a bunch of movies?”

“Sounds nice.” A yawn puffed against his throat. “What are you going to tell them?”

“That we're tired and we're going to stay here and watch a bunch of movies.” Nicky repeated, felt a smile curve to his skin. “Think we both need a chill-out, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Mark looked up, and once again Nicky was struck by that gaze, blue and muddled with depths he couldn't begin to understand. Wanted to try. “I like...” He bit his lip, like he was trying to figure out whether to let the words out. “I like being with you. Like friends. Not like...” His eyes closed for a moment and Nicky cupped a smooth cheek, kissing his nose. “We could be friends if we wanted, right?"

“We are friends.” Nicky smiled. “Why wouldn't we be?”

“No. I know. Erm...” Mark sucked in a breath, eyes unsure. “This isn't the plan.” He said finally. “My head's all messed up and... I just know I like being with you, so if we could be friends then... maybe this wouldn't be wrong. Right?”

“Just be friends?” Nicky felt his heart drop, lost in the swirl of conflict in Mark's eyes. “Do... you want to break up?”

“I...” Mark chewed his lip. “I want you. But it's not... if you were a girl it would be fine. It would. But I need to stop...” He rolled away, onto his back, and Nicky followed, not prepared to let go of him.

“What do you want?” He asked, rolling on top and burying his face in Mark's neck, sure the younger boy could hear his heart hammering between them. “Tell me.”

“I want... you know. Normal things. I want to get married and have kids. Be successful. Make my parents proud of me and not be...” He paused, and Nicky hung on slow breaths that were in stark contrast to the quick pulse he could feel in the throat against his cheek. “I need to stop letting my crap getting in the way of that. It's just wasting time and I...” He shook his head. “I was getting better, and now I feel like I'm slipping. And if I'm slipping on one thing I'm not...”

“I'm wasting your time?”

“I don't mean it like that.” Mark swallowed. “It's fine for you. This is what you chose. It's not for me.” Nicky sat up, straddling Mark, wanting to hold him down all of a sudden while he felt the boy beneath him start to slide out of his grasp.

“I didn't choose to be gay.”

“No. I know. But you can choose not to try, right?” Mark chewed his lip. “I don't have to give in to it if I don't want to.”

“Why don't you want to?”

“Nicky, it's _wrong_!” Mark exclaimed, like it was obvious. “We're sick, and if you don't want to get help then that's fine. I feel sorry for you, but... Come on. Why live with it when you can change it? It gets in the way of everything, always spending your life trying to hide, knowing you're missing out on so much and letting everyone down.”

“Who am I letting down?"

“Everyone! What if people found out? Or... or what if you get sick or something?”  
  
“I'm clean.” Nicky narrowed his eyes, not liking where this was going at all. “What, do you think I'm fucking infecting you with herpes or something? I'm not a slut.”

“I don't think you are...”

“And I'm not letting anyone down. My parents are _proud_ of me. I don't give a shit about hiding. The only person I'm hiding for here is you.” He spat. “And you think I'm fucking sick? Or... or broken? I know who I am. I like who I am.”

“I like you too.”

“Apparently not.” Nicky rolled off, standing up and running his fingers through his hair, hurt, anger and worry fighting in the suddenly empty shell of his chest. Mark looked like he was about ready to cry, sliding up against the pillows and pulling his knees to his chest. “You're gay. That's what you are. Get over yourself.”

“I know I'm gay.” Mark murmured. Nicky expected him to shout back, but instead he was burying his face in his knees. “It doesn't mean I have to have sex with men. I can have sex with women if I want. Like... just because you're a paedophile, it doesn't mean you have to touch kids. Or... or a rapist, right? It's only wrong if you actually do it. I don't have to.”

“A paedophile...?” Nicky trailed off, not knowing what the fuck to say to that. “Jesus, Mark. You're not a fucking criminal.” He put a hand over his mouth, feeling like he was about to throw up. Mark was shivering slightly on the bed, looking like he was trying to vibrate out of his skin. “Do you think...?”

“I don't think you are. I'm just saying... it's choosing, in the end. To not give in.” He looked up. “I gave in. You kissed me and I got confused and I'm... not anymore. I can say no.”

“Of course you can fucking say no. I'm not forcing you. Jesus.” Nicky raked a hand through his hair. “You kissed me back.”

“I know. I'm sorry.”

“I'm not.” Nicky growled. “You're fucking... sorry? We've been doing it for three fucking months! You told me you loved me.”

“I was confused.”

“You arsehole.” Nicky turned away, saw Mark draw into himself on the bed, almost disappearing into the pillows. “You fucking homophobic arsehole. I spend my whole life growing past people who thought I was sick, who thought I wasn't enough and now the guy I'm fucking dating is telling me I'm wrong? No. Just...” He shook his head, not able to look at Mark. “I'm gay.” He pointed at his chest. “I like men. They're fucking sexy and I like having sex with them. I like touching them and looking at them, and just occasionally I like falling madly fucking in love with them. And when I do that I expect at least a little bit of respect or what's the point?”

“I respect you! I just don't...”

“Go on. Say it.” Nicky turned to look at him. “You don't respect the fact that I'm gay? Shit, Mark, I'm sorry I jerked you off. I'm sorry I fucked you. But you said _yes_. You said yes to _me_ and now it's... what? A mistake?” He shook his head. “No.”

“I... I didn't want to.”

“I'm sorry?” Nicky's eyes widened in shock. “You didn't want to what?”

“To...” Mark swallowed. “To do that. I'm not supposed to want to. I should have said no. But you were nice and attractive and I let myself... be that. I let you make me feel that way. It was wrong.”

“I didn't fucking _rape_ you.” Nicky exclaimed. “Do you think I forced you or something?” He saw Mark shrug, look away. “Are you fucking serious?”

“I don't blame you.”

“Wow. Thank you. That makes me feel a hell of a lot better.” Nicky realised he was pacing and stopped, pausing next to the other bed. “Fuck.” He sank down. His legs felt weak. All of him felt weak, loose and empty while rage and confusion bubbled under the surface. “I don't...” He looked up at Mark, saw trembling lips and months of lies. “I can't listen to this.” He went to the corner, grabbed his suitcase. “I'm going to crash with Shane.”

He expected an argument, a protest. Something.

Instead Mark sat silently on the bed while he hauled his stuff out into the hallway and slammed the door.

 

*

 

Mark was one of the last ones to arrive that afternoon, had run back to grab a jacket, so when he got there the hall was already packed with boys. No girls – he'd seen them all heading up towards the dining hall on his way over – but it seemed every other boy in the camp was there, arranged silently into a circle. In the middle was a chair with a really crappy cloth dummy on it, which was a bit odd. It was burlap, with white crosses painted on for eyes and a straight black line for a mouth, not even curved into a smile or a frown. Mark sank down next to Gabriel, sitting cross-legged on the hard wooden floor.

“What's going on?”

“No talking.” One of the counsellors hissed. Mark nodded an apology, getting a rueful smile from Jonah a few places over. He smiled back, almost laughing when the other boy rolled his eyes.

The walls were lined with red whistles, as well as a few in blue polos as well. Mark saw Ben standing over near the door, looking serious. There was a quick roll call and then the doors were closed and locked. Mark felt a prickling sense of unease.

“Hi, guys...” One of the blue-shirts, who he was quickly coming to understand were the guidance counsellors, stepped into the middle of the circle, introduced himself as Damien, and put his hand on the head of the dummy. “Today we thought we'd do some exercises, okay?” He had the same disarming smile the others did, sort of blankly friendly, like a slate waiting to be filled. “We're going to talk about people who have negative influence on our lives.” Damien paused, looking around the circle. “Now, I'm not talking about people who make you angry. I'm talking about people who make you feel helpless, who make you feel like they're taking away from being your best selves.

“This guy...” He patted the dummy on the head. “Is going to help us out with that. Now, for a lot of you that person is going to be your fathers, and that's okay! This circle...” He gestured around at them all. “Is a safe place. No judgement. We're not going to talk about what happened here once we leave, because we love and respect each other, right?” A few people mumbled a response. “Right?”

“Right!” They all chorused. A second later they were all instructed to hold hands, saying a prayer. Mark intoned along with them, mumbling something about change and casting off sin. He didn't know how he felt about that, but when he glanced around the circle at least half of the other boys seemed to be repeating it quite seriously, their eyes closed and faces earnest. Gabriel was one, repeating the words with a calm, clear voice.

One of the younger boys was motioned up first. Maybe fourteen or fifteen, a chubby lad with dark hair and a Liverpool accent. Damien smiled at him and asked his name.  
  
“Anthony.” He said quietly.

“Anthony.” Damien led him over to the dummy. Mark realised they were all still holding hands, that the circle had closed again where Anthony had left his place. “Who is this to you? Who makes you feel like you can't be yourself?”

“I... I don't know. Nobody?”

“Now come on, Anthony...” Damien smiled, bending down a little so they were of a height. “Tell me about your father.”

“My dad?” Anthony swallowed. “He's okay. Um...” He glanced around nervously at the other boys. “I don't see him very much. He... he works for the postal service. Does the night shift so...”

“And do you see your mother often?”

“Yeah. She takes care of me.” Anthony nodded. “I help her at home. I try to.”

“So you've had to step into your father's role?” Damien asked. “That must be confusing for you, not having a male role model at home.”

“He's okay. I see him on weekends.” Anthony shrugged. “Mum does her best.”

“I'm sure she does.” Damien nodded kindly. “It must be hard for her too, trying to raise you without him around. I'm sure you want to make her proud.”

“Yeah. I... I do okay at school and all that.” He chewed his lip. “Try to do my homework.”

“And when he's at home, do you do much together? Does he play sports with you or spend time with you?”

“Sometimes. He's usually tired.” The chubby boy ran fingers through his hair, looking down at the ground. “He and my mam fight a lot when he's home.” He said quietly. “I think...” He swallowed hard. “I think they might be getting a divorce.”

“It's awful that they had to let you down like that.” Damien said quietly. He stepped back, putting his hand on the dummy again. “If this was your father, what would you say to him?”

“To my dad? Um...” Mark shifted uncomfortably as the younger boy glanced around at the circle. “I don't know.”

“This is a safe place.” Damien murmured. “See these boys?” He gestured at the circle. “These are your brothers. They're all going through a confusing time and they need help too. They love you.” To Mark's shock he saw a tear roll down a plump, freckled cheek. “You can say anything you want here.”

“I...” Anthony looked at the dummy. “My mum... she's just trying to get along.” He took a deep breath, eyes downcast. “She tries and... and I don't think you do. I think you come home and you're always angry and you drink and you... you shout at me and I don't know what I did.”

“You didn't do anything.” Damien said. “He let you down.”

“Yeah. I... I think maybe it's my fault sometimes, though. Maybe you just don't like me. Maybe I'm... bad. Or did something wrong and I try but...” The smaller boy sucked back a soft sob. “When I got bullied at school I didn't want to tell you because I thought you'd say it was my fault and then the school called and mum had to go in and you said... you said 'serves him right, the fat fucking faggot'.” There was a ripple of murmurs around the room in response to that. “You thought I didn't hear you but I did. And I...” He raked fingers through his hair, stammering to a stop.

“Do you want to hit him?”

“No.” Anthony shook his head. “No. I... want him to love me, but...” He looked up, eyes confused even from this distance. “Yes.” He whispered finally. “I want to hit him.”

“You can.” The dummy was shifted slightly in the chair. “Tell him why you want to hit him.”

“Because...” Conflicted eyes stared at the burlap lump, its white cross eyes staring back blankly. “Because you never listen to what I have to say.” He reached out, hand thumping lightly into its chest, so light it barely moved. “Because you're never around, and when you are I... I wish you would go away again and leave us alone.” The next punch was a little harder. “Leave me alone.” The next one went straight for the face, rattling the chair. Damien held it steady. “I...”

He went mad, suddenly. Punching and kicking, his voice rising to a steady shout until it barely even seemed to contain words any more, just a shrieking flurry of rage.

“Fuck you!” He shrieked. “I'm not a fucking faggot, you piece of shit!” He knocked it to the floor, and was sitting astride it in an instant, punching it in the face with both hands, tears rolling down his cheeks. “You never. Fucking. Do. Anything!” He was clawing at its face, the blank burlap staring soundlessly back at him. “I _hate_ you!”

He climbed off with a last kick, collapsing back onto his arse with his face buried in his hands. Mark felt like crying himself, all of a sudden. Damien crouched down beside the boy on the floor and slowly gathered him into a hug.

“We love you.” He said, loud enough that everyone could hear. “Don't we?” There was a murmur of agreement. “We're going to help you fight this. Because you're better than what he did to you.” Anthony nodded, was helped to his feet a second later.

Another boy was called into the circle. He and Anthony hugged, the dummy was repositioned, and then, carefully, the new boy was asked about his father and how he'd been let down.

He didn't say much. Just asked why his step-dad couldn't spend time with him like he did his own sons. Why they always got better gifts on their birthdays and why he was never invited to play games, why they always got to pick what they saw at the movies or have the front seat in the car.

He didn't go as mad as Anthony had, but he punched the dummy hard, driving a fist into its gut like he was trying to burst out the other side. He finished, hands clenched by his sides, hugged the next boy, and rejoined the circle. When Mark looked over at him a few minutes later there was a thoughtful frown on his face, his eyes locked onto the dummy.

They worked around the circle. Some boys were angry at bullies instead, or uncles, or teachers, or older brothers. Some of them beat the hell out of the dummy, while others just seemed to shout at it. He heard the same words a lot. Hate. Faggot. Queer. Sorry. One boy hugged it, sobbing into its shoulder until Damien pulled him into a hug instead.

Eventually it was Mark's turn.

 

*

 

Nicky climbed silently back onto the bus the next morning. Shane had asked why he wasn't sleeping in with Mark but he'd been too angry and hurt to answer the question, had just mumbled something about needing a bit of space and climbed into bed, staring into the dark of the sheets he'd cocooned himself inside.

He was fucking pissed off.

Because how dare Mark? He'd known there was something off, known Mark was a bit conflicted over his sexuality and that had been fine. He'd been willing to work through that, even if it was as a friend instead of a boyfriend. Be an ear and a shoulder to lean on while he was figuring himself out.

He'd never expected to be spoken to like that. To have those passive aggressive bullshit accusations levelled his way when he was doing his best to help. That he was sick, should be ashamed, that he'd somehow forced Mark to do something he didn't want to do.

It was a hard road. He got that. Had copped his fair share of it himself in his younger years, always the butt of fairly hurtful jokes when he'd been bopping away to Boyzone or Take That in the football locker rooms. It had been devastating, at the time, realising slowly that he wasn't like everyone else. That the thoughts he had in his most private moments were spilling over into his personal life, that they were somehow able to define him. And he'd fought it. God knew he had.

But his mother had sat him down and asked what was wrong and he'd just... spilled. Fallen apart, burst into tears and been unable to keep back the sobbing roll of relief when she'd gathered him up, kissed his forehead and said it was fine. Of course it was fine. That he was still their baby and there was not a thing wrong with him. And he'd cried for what felt like hours until his father had come home, hugged him as well, and asked what the fuss was. And Nicky had choked out the answer and his dad had laughed and said 'is that all?"

He'd not felt this small, this awful, in five years. Hated the fact that the person he'd chosen to pursue could treat him like that because if there was one thing he refused to be it was a victim. Not any more.

Mark was already on the bus, sat quietly on his bunk when Nicky climbed on. Nicky couldn't look at him.

They went to the first radio gig and he sat while Kian, Bryan and Shane did all the talking, interjecting here and there so at least people could tell he existed.

“Is Mark okay?” Bryan asked.

“How would I know?” Nicky mumbled, climbing back onto the bus. He went upstairs, plugged in his headphones, and stayed there until they pulled into the next stop, waiting until Mark was caught up with fans before climbing off himself. Drifted through. Got back on. It was early afternoon before he was able to get some time to himself, the others napping downstairs while he snuck off upstairs.

“Nicky?” Mark said finally. Nicky looked up, lifting one side of his headphones. He hadn't noticed Mark come up, had been too busy trying to drift out and get his thoughts in order before the next round of interviews.

“Yeah?”

“Erm... Can I sit with you?”

Nicky shrugged, not wanting to say no and start a fight, but not particularly wanting to say yes either. Mark sank down, elbows leant on his knees. Nicky put his headphones back on properly, closing his eyes and tipping his head back, tuning Mark very definitely out.

He felt Mark shift, and when he opened his eyes again the younger boy was laying down on the sofa, his head on a cushion next to Nicky's hip. Nicky looked down in confusion, not sure what to say, what Mark expected or was trying to prove. Mark's eyes were closed though, so Nicky closed his own again, huffing out a frustrated sigh.

When they reached the next stop Mark was asleep, fingers curled to his face and eyes closed over dark rings seeming to etch into the sockets. Nicky pulled off his headphones, standing up. Not sure what to do.

“Mark?”

The other boy didn't stir, so Nicky crouched down, shaking his shoulder gently. Hands curled closer to a face that seemed scrunched up and nervous, even in sleep.

“Mark? We're here. Come on.”

“No...” Mark moaned sleepily. Nicky almost laughed, despite himself. No matter his anger, Mark's determination to always get that bit of extra shut-eye was adorable. “No.” He muttered again. Then, to Nicky's surprise, he whimpered. “Stop.” He murmured, hands curling closer to his face. “Sorry. No...” He sucked in a shallow gasp of air, lips pinching in. “Nn...”

“Mark.” Nicky shook him a little harder. A second later Mark came awake with a jolt, eyes snapping open.

“I...” He was breathing heavily, looked pale and startled. Nicky wasn't sure what to do, what that had been about. “Are we there?” He said breathlessly.

“Yeah.” He stood up, resisting the urge to pull Mark into a hug. Not after last night. “I'll see you out there.” He remarked, heading for the stairs.

 

*

 

He got up reluctantly. This wasn't something he'd ever liked, being the centre of attention. Even when he was about to get up and sing it was almost that first moment of self-conscious panic right before he started, like he was sure he was about to completely screw up, that horrible moment of feeling exposed. He hated doing oral exams in class, didn't know how his friend Kian got up and did poetry readings with such total conviction and confidence.

When he looked back, Gabriel's hand had closed the circle with the boy on the other side of him.

He hugged the boy who had just finished. Alfie, who had been angry at his younger brother for being perfect all the time, for getting straight As and being good at sports and always winning every game. Who'd had his work plastered all over the fridge while Alfie had been trying so hard and his brother had never seemed to try at all. Was always going out with the best looking girls and making his parents beam like there was nothing he couldn't do wrong.

The dummy was repositioned. Mark looked at it, his mouth dry.

“Hi Mark.”

“Hey.” He nodded awkwardly.

“Who is this to you?”

“I don't know.” He felt wildly defensive, all of a sudden. “My dad's great. There's nothing wrong with him.”

“I didn't say there was.” Damien smiled, and he blushed, feeling stupid. “Your dad loves you. So does your mother. They sent you here because they love you and want the best for you.” Mark nodded, feeling sour sick in the back of his throat when he swallowed. “They're proud of you, and they want you to be happy and successful, not let distractions get in the way. They want you on the right path.” He was starting to get that feeling himself, felt like this was some sort of month-long intervention. He supposed he was a little angry at them. For lying to him, for suspecting something about him when they'd apparently never thought to actually ask.

Something he was starting to suspect about himself.

He didn't want to think about it. It was too hard, too complicated and big when he was just trying to get on with his life, trying to muddle through all the shit at school. He just wanted to be normal, so people could get the hell out of his face and stop treating him like he was different.

“There...” He started, looking at the dummy. “There's a guy at school. Gareth. Him and his mates. They...” He didn't know how to say this, how to wrap up every horrible hurtful moment in one description. “They don't like me.” He finished, glancing at Damien, who was smiling encouragingly.

“Why not?”

“I... I don't know.” He bit his lip, feeling like admitting why would be incriminating himself. “They call me names. Um. They shove me, sometimes, or...” He trailed off.

“What sorts of names?”

“Erm.” He swallowed hard. “Fat. Or... or fairy. Queer. One time...” He could feel eyes on him, didn't want to look around in case he made eyecontact with any of them, feeling like he was hemmed in. “One time they stole my uniform when I was doing sport. Like I had my kit still so it wasn't like I had to go naked or anything but... I found my clothes later. They... they rubbed them in dog shit and stuffed them back in my locker.” He felt hot tears prick his eyes, the same horrible sinking feeling he'd had when he'd found them. And then everyone had started to laugh and...

“That was an awful thing to do.”

“Yeah. I guess. I don't know. I feel like... maybe there's something wrong with me. That they can tell there is so maybe I... maybe I deserve it.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “I just want it to stop. I just want to be me and get on with things and be normal and...” He shifted, choking back the sudden flood of anger. “I didn't ask to be different.”

“You don't have to be.” Damien smiled. “God made you perfect. You can choose to stay that way, if you like. All you have to do is let go of what's making you feel like that, show them that they can't make you something if you don't want to be. You're strong.”

“I don't think I am.”

“I think you are. I think we all are.” He patted the head of the dummy. “This is Gareth. He doesn't know you. Not the real you. You don't have to prove anything to him, just to yourself. What would you like to say to him?”

The next few minutes were a blur. By the time Mark was done there were tears streaming down his face and he felt dizzy and breathless, like he wanted to throw up. He didn't say much, couldn't make the words with everyone watching, but there was something about feeling rough fabric under his knuckles, about feeling the give in the stuffing while he punched it until he was breathless, feeling clumsy and ineffective and wishing – just  _wishing_ – he could feel the crack of bone, hear a single cry of pain.

Gabriel was up next. He fell into a hug, felt the other boy squeeze him tight and for just half a second he didn't feel so alone. A hand cupped the back of his head, and he let himself lean into it, sucking back tears.

He met Jonah's eyes when he looked up, and caught a small sympathetic smile, his gaze heavy with something Mark couldn't read.

 


	6. Chapter 6

“So... this is our new single. It's called If I Let You Go.” Shane was saying. “And it'll be out on the ninth of August.” The music kicked in. A second later the lights for their microphones went off and they began to tug off headphones, the DJ smiling at them.

“Cheers for that, lads.” She nodded. “Would you mind hanging around for a few minutes and doing a couple of promo spots?” They said that was fine, had done the same thing at a few of the others, and it was a fast enough job. They wandered downstairs to do it, and Nicky took the opportunity to have a look around. He'd always found the whole thing fascinating, the idea of presenting and all the bits and pieces that went together to make a broadcast work. They were sent into a smaller room where they were met by a girl who introduced herself as Emma and got them set up.

“Hi, we're Westlife!” The all chorused. “And you're listening to Galway Bay FM!”

“Thanks lads, brilliant.” She smiled. She seemed nice, was a sweet girl of about twenty-two or so, casual and pretty with her hair tied up in a ponytail. “Nice meeting ya.” She shot a sideways look at Mark, and smirked. “My missus actually knows one of you, or says she does.”

“Oh yeah?” Bryan laughed. “Crazy fan?”

“Nah. Well, crazy, yeah.” She winked. “No. Mark, right?” He nodded. “Charlie reckons you two hung out together once. At camp or something. She saw you on the telly a couple of months ago and started freaking out, going 'I know that lad!'”

Mark froze. Didn't know that he looked like he knew what to say.

“Oh, right.” He said finally. “Charlotte, right? Haven't heard from her in years.” He hesitated. “How's she doing?”

“Brilliant. Yeah. We moved over here last year. She's doing veterinary science at the college nearby. You want me to give you her number? She'd probably love to hear from you.” She grabbed a pen, scribbling on a bit of paper, and handed it to him. He took it, looking like he didn't quite know what to do with it, then stuffed it in his pocket.

“Cheers. Say hi for me, yeah?”

“Will do.” Emma winked. They quickly autographed a magazine cover 'to Charlie & Emma' said their goodbyes, and headed back out of the station, clambering back onto the bus, which started to move almost straight away, headed east for Athlone. Mark went to the bathroom and stayed there for a long while, until Bryan banged on the door and told him to hurry up, because there was a gallon of Red Bull needing to get out.

He did, making a quiet joke about too much McDonalds, and lay down on his bed. Nicky glanced at him, his headphones in while he lay on his own.

He wanted to ask something. Didn't know what it was. Something about why Mark had apparently been hanging out with a lesbian when he was so caught up in his own guilt and self-loathing. Why his eyes had been red when he'd come out of the bathroom. And what the hell Nicky was supposed to be feeling when all he wanted to do was go over there, pull him to his chest and tell him everything was alright.

He got up to go to the bathroom himself, was sitting on the toilet when something caught his eye in the bin. A crumpled piece of paper. Without knowing why, he leaned forward, pulling it out and straightened it to find Charlie's phone number in thick black marker.

It was in his own pocket a moment later.

 

*

 

“Mark?”

“Yeah.” He was wide awake, had been for long hours. He felt strangely buzzed, like he had too much energy flooding his veins while he lay on the bed. He could just see the moon through the window, heavy and almost to full, casting soft shadows across the room.

“I can't sleep.”

“Me either.” Mark yawned. The others had dropped off quickly. Sam had looked stressed and exhausted after shouting at the dummy, but Gabriel seemed oddly at peace. Had quietly gotten under the sheets and drifted off, a small smile on his lips.

“Today was weird.”

“We're not supposed to talk about it.” Mark said abruptly. He wasn't sure he wanted to, anyway. It had been an odd little pocket of time that didn't feel quite real, like something that was happening in his own head instead of in real life. Watching Jonah get up and tell his dad that he was a useless piece of shit that had never done anything for anyone, that he was glad he couldn't remember him properly, because at least it meant not having to miss him like his mother did. He hadn't hit the dummy, had turned his back on it instead, glaring at his feet until he'd been told to sit back down.

“Why not?”

“They said not to.”

“Right.” Jonah sighed. “I'm hungry. You want a chocolate?”

“We can't leave the cabin.”

“I didn't say that.” Jonah snorted, and there was a soft creak. Mark looked up, not sure what he was doing up there until a hand reached down with a couple of bite-sized Milky Ways grasped in it. He took one, peeling the wrapper off in amazement.

“Where'd you get these?”

“There's a loose board up here.” Jonah laughed. Mark snorted, rolling his eyes while he chewed. “Found it on the first day. I don't think they know about it.”

“What if you get caught?”

“Then I didn't know about it either. Must have been whoever was in this bed last. I mean, if they couldn't find it why should I be expected to? I'm a good boy.”

“Are you?”

“Definitely.” Jonah chuckled. “Can't you tell?” There was shuffling movement, and Mark looked up to see a head swing down over the side of the bunk above, Jonah's hair flopping down at the mercy of gravity, his face a little pink. “Hey.”

“Hey.” Mark smiled. “We've got another canoe trip in the morning.”

“Cool. You wanna share one?”

“Yeah.” He nodded, trying to look nonchalant but glad that Jonah had suggested it. It wasn't something he had much experience with, being the one who was picked. Usually it was everyone else pairing off and him being stuck with whoever else was left. He had friends, of course, but he knew in a pinch that Shane and Kian would choose each other and he got the feeling that he was only being chosen for things now that Shane had gone off to college and Kian didn't have the option.

“Cheers.” Jonah grinned. “You want a packet of crisps or anything?”

“How much food do you _have_ up there?” Mark laughed. “Is there a cocktail bar as well?”

“Give me time. It's only been a week.” Jonah laughed. “Come look. I've been hoarding.”

“I think we'd collapse the bunk.” Mark snorted. “We're not getting two of us up there. I weigh too much.”

“You're not fat, you know.” Jonah raised an eyebrow, though with him upside down it looked a bit strange. Mark didn't know what to say to that, just stopped, chewing his lip awkwardly when Jonah smiled. “They're wrong. You're absolutely fine.”

“Erm... thanks.” He managed. “I...” He shook his head, looking up at the boy still dangling his head over the edge. “We'd still be too heavy.”

“It's cool.” Jonah disappeared, but a moment later he was sliding down, stepping out of the way. “Up you get.”

“Fine...” Mark rolled his eyes, climbing out and peering over the edge. “Where am I looking?”

“In the corner. You have to...” Jonah gestured and Mark obeyed, climbing as quietly as he could up the ladder and laying down on the bunk. It smelled oddly of Jonah, a sort of broad summery smell that was less like sweat and more like a sense of who he was all over. Mark shuffled up, trying to see what he was looking for. “Right, so see that bit of wood with the scratch on it that looks like a cross?” Mark peered, trying to see through the dark of the room, then found it. “Right, go about two inches to the right of the cross and press down.

He did. Felt it give, and then the other end of the board lifted like a seesaw. He laughed in surprise prying it up and spotting a bag of Starbursts, a few more Milky Ways and a packet of chocolate chip cookies wedged in the surprisingly large space.

“That's brilliant! When did you get the food in?”

“Brought it from home. I was making my bed and I pressed on it by accident. Didn't think much of it, but then they said no outside food and were doing inspections and I put two and two together.” He beamed, looking adorably proud. “Don't tell anyone, yeah?”

“Course not.” Mark smirked, reaching in a little further. There was a can of coke back there as well, and a packet of bubblegum. “Did you bring the whole bloody sweet shop with ya?

“Might have.” Jonah shrugged. “I've been rationing.” Mark turned to look at him, not realising how close he was, chin rested on the mattress, hands gripping the edge while he peered over the top. He pulled back a little, but wasn't able to move far on his stomach like this, his shoulder almost touching the wall already. “Hey.”

“Hey.” Mark smiled. The hand on the mattress landed on his, and he looked down in confusion.

“Hey.” Jonah repeated quietly. Before Mark knew it, their fingers were linking slowly together. He wasn't sure what to say, what to do with the sudden flood of warmth spilling through him, frozen by earnest green eyes. “Um.

“Erm.” Mark swallowed hard, felt his mouth go suddenly wet. Jonah was licking his lip, looked nervous, and he wasn't sure what was about to happen. Knew he was shifting closer without meaning to.

“Um.” Jonah leaned in a little closer. “Hey.”

Their lips connected slowly. Barely a touch, the angle awkward with him on his stomach and Jonah stretching to reach over the side. Then he felt lips part slightly, felt his own mirror it, and he felt hot and dizzy, a little bit lost and not sure if he was falling or floating. Heard a soft moan and couldn't tell if it was his own, too caught up in the slow, soft feeling of a mouth on his.

“Um.” Jonah licked his lips when they parted. It had been chaste, he supposed. No tongues, no nothing. Felt like it had been quick, but like it had stretched on forever. He was breathing hard, wasn't sure why. “Sorry.”

“No. Sorry. I didn't mean to...”

“Me either. Uh...” Pale cheeks went pink, freckles standing out against them like stars.

“I should...” He began to sit up, sliding back towards the ladder. But when he dropped, Jonah was standing right there waiting, chewing on his bottom lip. “Sorry.”

“No. It's fine. Um.” Jonah touched his lips, his cheeks as red as Mark's felt. “We should go to bed.”

“We... yeah.” He agreed. Then he realised his hand was still on the ladder and Jonah couldn't get past. He stepped out of the way. “Erm... night.”

“Night.” Jonah replied, stepping past.

He didn't know how the next kiss happened, knew they were sidling past each other, but for a second the moon was casting shadows off Jonah's face and he was so close and just looked...

Fingers slid into his hair, and this time it wasn't so chaste. Felt that idea thud into him when a tongue swept slowly over his bottom lip, when he felt himself tilt into it on purpose, not sure at all what he was doing and feeling totally, stupidly inexperienced, but feeling hot and addicted at the same time. Feeling hungry, like he hadn't eaten in weeks, shivering when he heard a soft moan, felt the soft pressure of his own tongue touching someone else's. A boy's. Feeling a boy's lips close on his top one and tug slightly, the taste overwhelming.

“Erm.” He said again when they parted. “Sorry.”

“I'm not.” Jonah murmured. He swallowed hard and his eyes were darker than they had been. Mark blinked, feeling like he was about to fall and needing to just focus before he did. “I...” Their foreheads leant together, and Mark thought he was about to go in for another when the light of a torch bounced through their window, playing off the wall opposite.

“Shit.” He whispered. They separated fast, Jonah scrambling up his ladder and Mark sliding into his own bed, eyes cracked open to watch the light dance past, the sound of footsteps slowly shrinking away again.

They didn't speak again after that. He didn't know what to say. But after what felt a long time he drifted off to sleep, listening to Jonah breathe quietly in the bunk above.

 

*

 

“You're doing it in the wrong key!”

“ _You're_ doing it in the wrong key!” Bryan retorted. “It's fucking Garth Brooks, not Enya.” He played a couple of chords in emphasis. “Look. Right there.”

“No, but when you hit the chorus it won't work!” Kian argued. “It's always been in G Major. Look...” He started playing. “Shane, sing, yeah?”

“What?”

“Sing.”

“What are we singing?”

“The Dance.” Kian explained. “Weren't you listening?”

“Not really.” Shane shrugged. He hadn't, had been staring out the window. Nicky laughed, sinking back into his seat. They were almost to Sligo, were to hit up the local radio station and then off to Belfast, then back to the UK for some more promo in the last week leading up to the release. “Look, there's that field where we got drunk and Kian got attacked by a goat.”

“I did not.” Kian put his guitar down, though, and knelt up on the couch, looking out. “Shit, that's right. There's the windmill and all.” He snorted a laugh. “It looks weird in the daytime.”

“And sober.” Mark snorted. “Remember that time we went up the Knock and it started pissing down raining? And there were like no trees to hide under and we didn't want to climb down because it was too slippery?”

“Oh yeah. And Kian's like 'no, it'll only be a minute, it'll pass' and we sat up there for like two hours while it smashed down on top of us?” Shane laughed. “I got the worst flu of my life after that.”

“It was alright once you got wet.” Kian interjected. “Once you were, it wasn't like you were getting wetter.”

“Not, just colder and muddier.” Mark retorted. “And we'd borrowed Shane mam's car and she went spare because we'd gotten all the seats wet and dirty. And we tried to clean it out at the service station on the way home.”

“That's right. Yeah.” Shane laughed. “We were trying to hose off, and I was sneezing and you fell on your arse in the parking lot.” Mark laughed, nodding. “Disaster.”

“Total.” Kian laughed. “Good day, though.”

“Brilliant day.” Mark agreed, peering out the window. Nicky watched, finding himself smiling when he saw an open, steady grin on Mark's face, a nostalgic laugh sparkling in his eyes. He wished he could have been there, seeing what Mark was like doing something that seemed to make him that carefree. That young and stupid and ridiculous.

“Bloody farmers.” Bryan commented. “You know, in the city we could have fun without being covered in mud. We had these things called 'cinemas'.”

“Fuck off, Bry.” Mark rolled his eyes, still giggling. “You don't know.”

There seemed to be a general flurry of excitement after that, the three Sligo boys peering out the windows as they got closer and closer. They skirted around the edge of town, headed out to the radio station. He'd been here before, of course, but with the three of them pointing out spots and telling stupid stories he felt almost like he was coming home himself. Halfway into Shane pointing at what looked like a pile of rocks and shouting something completely unintelligible, he caught Mark's eyes.

The younger boy blushed. Nicky didn't look away. Saw a slow, uncertain smile. Smiled back, unable to help himself.

“Hey.” He said quietly.

“Hey.” Mark nodded, biting his lip. “We're home.”

“Yeah.” Nicky nodded. The others didn't seem to notice he'd dropped out of the conversation. They were trying to explain something complicated to Bryan about a bucket of paint and a tractor while the other boy stared at them like they were from the past. “How are you?”

“I don't know.” Mark looked back out the window again. “Are you talking to me again?”  
  
“Should I?” Nicky murmured. Mark hitched a shoulder.

“Probably not.” He sighed, leaning his chin on his hands. “I'm sorry. I want to make a fresh start. Be friends again.” He glanced at Nicky. “Please.”

Nicky wanted to cry, watching Mark slip through his fingers. Wanted to say something, explain that he was so pissed off, so totally angry. Didn't want to forget for a moment how it had felt to have Mark say those things to him because at least if he was blinded by rage he couldn't feel his heart breaking.

“I don't know.” He shook his head. “I...” He couldn't sit here any more, so he stood up, wanting to throw things, start shouting, not wanting the others to hear. Not wanting to say something he couldn't take back and force a wedge down the middle of the band, not when they were starting to get somewhere. Not when everyone else was working so hard. “I'm going to go get changed.” He said. “I'll see you when we get there.”

He headed for the stairs, feeling a tear-filled gaze on his back.

 

*

 

The others were out for a walk when Mark woke. That had been what Jonah said, anyway. It was still early, the dawn light flat and amber on the floorboards while they kissed slowly on Mark's bunk, his whole body feeling heavy and hot, a hand on his hip while his mouth parted under soft, coaxing lips. He slid his fingers into ginger hair, wanting the feel of it, needing to distract himself from the confusing pool of sensation collecting below his waist.

“Oh...” Jonah gasped when they parted. Then they were diving in again, and Mark heard a noise that would have been embarrassing had he had any sense of making it. It was sucked away a minute later, their hips colliding awkwardly in the space of the bed.

And god, Jonah was hard too.

“So fucking gorgeous.” Jonah muttered, capturing his mouth. “Fancy the hell out of you.”

“You're mad.” Mark managed breathlessly, heard a low giggle.

“Yeah. Don't care. Fuck.” Fingers stoked up underneath his t-shirt and his breath hitched, panic flooding into his chest while he tried to figure out whether to bat it away or yank it higher, fingers a hot brand on his side. “Don't want to stop doing this.”

“God...” He heard himself gasp, breath coming faster as he was rolled onto his back, Jonah climbing on top. “Oh...” He squeezed his eyes shut at sudden pressure, heard the boy on top of him let out a low hiss. “Have to stop.”

“Why?” Lips trailed down his throat, sucking kisses and he was on fire. On bloody fire and couldn't think how to put himself out.

“They'll come back... ah...!” He arched when a thumb found his nipple, stroking over it, then pressing down so hard it hurt. “Have to.” He panted. “Jesus.”

“Feels too good.” Jonah muttered, tongue sinking into the hollow of his throat, hot and hard against his thigh.

“Stop.” He whimpered, knowing if this went any further he wasn't going to be able to hang on. “Too much. It... nnn...” His hips lifted again, eyes screwing tighter when he felt himself circle the edge. “Stop.” He said again. Jonah groaned, pulling away to kneel over him on all fours, their bodies not touching any more but Mark's chest still feeling like it was being crushed. He panted hard, trying to hold off and looking up into huge black pupils, pink cheeks.

“Sorry.”

“No.” He sucked in a breath, trying to adjust, not wanting to look down and see evidence of how hard he was. How hard Jonah was, because oh god. “Too close.” He admitted, heard a soft laugh.

“That's really fucking sexy.” Lips caught his again, chaste this time. “I'll finish it for you if you want.”

“No. Um.” He took in another breath, feeling dizzy. “No.” He shook his head. “Thanks, but...”  
  
“It's fine.” Jonah rolled off, sitting up on the edge of the bed. Mark couldn't do the same. Couldn't move and risk it. He got a cheeky smile, returned it weakly, wishing he didn't feel so good. “Fuck.” He ran a hand over his face, giggling breathlessly. “You're a brilliant kisser.”

“Thanks.” Mark shifted again, not sure how else to respond. “You too.”

He was just about calmed down when the door opened without warning and was glad they'd parted when they had. A counsellor walked in, whistle around his neck, and looked at them for a long moment, eyes narrowing at the two boys sat together on the same bed in their pyjamas.

“Breakfast in fifteen minutes.” He said. “Why are you by yourselves?”

“Um... the others just went for a walk.” Jonah managed. “We weren't ready yet. Sorry.”

“You know the rules."

“We were still in bed when they left.” He explained. “We were just having a chat. About, like, our new path and that. I feel like it's really helping, you know?” He smiled brightly. “Thanks for checking on us, though. I appreciate it. It won't happen again.”

The counsellor looked like he didn't know what to say. Jotted something down on a clipboard, told them to get to the showers if they were having one, and then left. Mark giggled, not able to believe how smoothly Jonah had diffused that one. Jonah laughed too, standing up and reaching for his toiletries and some clean clothes.

 


	7. Chapter 7

They stopped in Sligo for dinner, had called ahead to let everyone know they were in town, and ended up meeting at Shane's parents cafe. They'd closed the place down, put up a sign saying 'private party' and suddenly there about a hundred people crammed in there. Parents, siblings, cousins, friends. Nicky didn't even know who half these people were, but everyone was hugging and people were shouting out things that couldn't be words but then half the room would shout something back and apparently it all made quite a lot of sense.

He ended up in the corner with Bryan, picking at a plate of chips while half of Sligo went mad around them.

“Fucking farmers.” Bryan muttered good-naturedly. Nicky rolled his eyes, glancing over his shoulder.

“Tell me about it. Surprised there aren't any sheep in here.”

“From the look of Kian's cousins, there's at least a few.” Bryan laughed. He nodded over to where Mark was talking to his parents. His mother seemed to be hugging him every five seconds; his father kept clapping him on the shoulder. “Not going to get involved with the in-laws?”

“No.” Nicky sighed. He looked down at the plate of chips. “Think it's over.”

“Shit.” Bryan bit his lip, looking abashed. “Sorry. Didn't mean to bring it up.”

“No. It's fine.” He glanced over at Mark, saw pink cheeks and sparkling eyes. “They didn't know about us anyway.”

“Well, neither did any of us.” Bryan laughed. “Not officially. I'm gutted for ye. You looked good together.” A hand patted him on the shoulder. “You alright?”

“I guess. Yeah. Maybe we just got in a bit over our heads or something. Didn't think it through. It's probably for the best.”

“I suppose. Still.” The hand on his shoulder squeezed. “You looked like you'd fallen pretty hard for him.”

“I had. I mean, I think I had. I thought... I don't know what I thought.” He admitted. Looking back on it, it hadn't been much of a relationship. Not really. Some awkward sex, a bit of snuggling. The rest of it had been just... friendship. A fast friendship that had been a bit intoxicating, wanting to be in his presence all the time, wanting to be seen and acknowledged and feeling a thrill every time Mark looked his way. Feeling him warm and strong in his arms and just... wanting him. “Maybe it was a crush that got a bit out of control.”

“He liked you back, though.”

“I thought so.” Nicky shrugged. “It doesn't matter.” He picked up another chip, stuffing it into his mouth so he had an excuse to not talk about it any more. “Do you mind that I'm gay?” He asked once he'd swallowed. Bryan raised an eyebrow.

“In what sense? Are you gonna hit on me?”

“Wasn't planning on it.” Nicky snorted. “I've just been thinking. The secrecy thing, right? Like, it's always under wraps and I wasn't going to go saying anything but I'm wondering why I'm lying. Like, really? I'm not ashamed of myself or anything.”

“I couldn't tell ya.” Bryan shrugged. “Management would flip if you were gay.”

“I am, though.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I do.” Nicky nodded.

“Why? Are you thinking of saying something?”

“I don't know.” Nicky admitted. “It's funny. It almost feels like I'm not allowed. Like... I wouldn't want to fuck everything up. Wouldn't want the scandal. But then I'm not sure why it counts as a scandal, really. That makes it sound like I'm doing something wrong.”

“For a lot of people you probably are.” Bryan frowned. “You don't get to be famous and gay.”

“What about Elton John?”

“Yeah, but he's Elton John.” Bryan snorted. “That's practically the appeal now, isn't it? He's not trying to impress teenage girls. He's covering himself in feathers and sequins and going mad with it. It's basically him and Freddie Mercury. And yeah, he was bloody brilliant, but ask anyone what they know about him and they'll say he was in Queen and he died of AIDS.” Nicky looked at him in surprise, got a shrug. “I'm not saying I think that's fair, but that's sort of how it is. You're gay, then that's all you are. As far as the press are concerned, anyway.”

“That's depressing.”

“Yep.” Bryan popped a few chips in his mouth. “I feel like every bloody day I'm getting a list of shit I'm not allowed to do. Or at least not allowed to do in public.” He winked, and Nicky laughed, rolling his eyes. “But at the same time I wonder why it's anybody's fucking business. If I want to get plastered on cheap vodka in my own house and shag a girl I met in the bottle shop I don't have to feel guilty if nobody finds out.”

“What if she says something, though?”

“Hasn't happened yet.” Bryan took a sip of his coke. “I'm nineteen. I'm single. I got drunk and laid. Take a look in the mirror before you judge, right?” He patted Nicky's shoulder. “You're class, mate. You're a nice guy, you look out for other people. You're fucking hilarious when you get going and you're not a pushover. I don't give a shit who you're shagging. If you want to announce to everyone that you're looking to get fudgepacked then that's your business, but I don't know why it's anyone else's. Straight people don't go around announcing they're straight. I don't go calling The Sun to let them know how I like my dick sucked.”

“Please do. Louis would go bananas.”

“He'd explode.” Bryan agreed. They both laughed. Bryan stood. “I need a pee, mate. But look, see that lad there?” He pointed at Mark, who was talking to a few people Nicky didn't know. “I heard him crying in the bus bathroom today and I think he needs a bit of a hug. So if you don't want to I'm happy to sort it out, but I reckon you get first dibs, yeah?”

He wandered off to the bathroom, leaving Nicky sat in surprise in front of a plate of cooling chips.

 

*

 

The sun was warm on their skin. Mark didn't know what it was but he felt amazing this morning, settled in the back of the canoe and watching the muscles shift in Jonah's back, messy red hair ing the sunlight.

He didn't know what had come over him. But god, he'd wanted it. Had wanted it that morning at breakfast, watching laughing green eyes peer over at him over mouthfuls of cereal, getting distracted and drifting out of conversation with the others without meaning to. Then getting a wink and a smirk when one of them asked him a direct question and he hadn't been paying attention. Sitting in chapel and listening to the sermon drone on and feeling a pinky finger brush his. Just barely, not enough to be caught but he'd felt a thrill of electricity run straight up his spine, every atom of his being concentrated on that one spot.

And now. Feeling like he was guarding a secret that sat heavy in the space between them, weighing the canoe as surely as the backpacks in the middle of the boat. Seeing eyes glance over a broad shoulder every now and then and wanting to tip the whole thing over, crawl into the space underneath and kiss until he didn't need air to keep him from drowning.

They paddled in silence. He'd been here a week now and was already starting to feel the routine settle into his bones. At first it had felt stifling, the structure overbearing, but now he was getting used to it. It was comforting, somehow, knowing things were a certain way, knowing where to be and being able to follow orders without having to think too much.

They pulled up the canoes on a patch of riverbank under a close tangle of trees and unloaded their packs. Mark passed Jonah's over, and for a moment their fingers touched. He got a wink and a smile and then they fell into step, pushing through the undergrowth until they were on a tangled path beaten clear by the footsteps of the people there before them, walking single-file to make it through. He could feel eyes on the back of his neck, and when he glanced over he got a grin.

They stopped, finally, in a small clearing in the middle of the woods. It was beautiful, the knots of briar and tangled flowers fighting for breathing room as the trunks of trees seemed to blend into a maze around them. He lay on his back in the grass, staring up at the canopy and watching flecks of sunlight break through the net of leaves.

They couldn't talk, not with everyone there, but Mark didn't really mind. Didn't know what to say, in any case. He closed his eyes, feeling warmth on his skin. Felt the solid presence of the boys sat around him.

They were motioned up and into a circle after lunch, sat cross-legged and with joined hands, red whistles spotted here and there throughout the circle. There were maybe six all up. Jonah's fingers slid into his, real and warm. Mark bit his lip, trying not to let out the hysterical giggle he could feel bubbling up.

“Hey guys.” One of the counsellors smiled. He was the sole blue-shirt. “Some of you have already met me. I'm Lachlan.” He smiled. “And we know you guys are growing up and having trouble understanding yourselves sometimes. It's confusing, when you're learning who you are. So we're going to talk today about how we've fallen off the path ourselves, and how we've learned to put aside the parts of ourselves that are hurtful to people around us and lead us down the wrong road.”

“We know some of you will be led into temptation. It's only natural that you have feelings you don't understand. But that's okay. As long as you can learn to control those feelings you can still be forgiven, and we want to help you do that. This is Adam...” He nodded at the red whistle a few seats down. “Adam, could you tell us your story please?”

“Hi guys, I'm Adam.” He smiled broadly, squeezing the hands of the two boys next to him. “And when I was sixteen I was recruited into the gay lifestyle.” He looked around the circle. “I had a boyfriend; Michael. I thought he was really cool, because he would drink and do drugs and take me to clubs. But he was using me the whole time. He drove a wedge between me and my family and when I left home he got me addicted to drugs as well.” He paused, frowning. “I used to do lots of things because I thought he loved me. I used to have sex with other men so we could score. I let them do things to me that still give me nightmares, because temptation and lies made me compromise who I was supposed to be.”

“But God has forgiven me.” He smiled again, eyes going clear. “Being gay isn't just liking men. We all have urges, but we have to learn to control them. I learned to get off meth, just the same as I learned to stop being with men. It doesn't mean I don't want to. It's an addiction like anything else. Homosexuality is a burden you can choose to bear, or to let overcome you. And now I'm married and I have three children and I haven't touched drugs or men in almost fifteen years. I'm whole again.” He grinned. “I have my family back, and I know I'm loved by them and by God. It's not just sin, it's letting something attach itself to who you are. It's a fake love that only lasts until you can get your next fix.”

“Thank you, Adam.” Lachlan smiled. “Adam is one of our greatest successes. He was on the streets when he chose to make a change, and would never have been there in the first place if it wasn't for homosexuality getting its claws in him. Now he's back on the path, right Adam?”

“Right.” Adam nodded. “And you guys inspire me to stay there.” He beamed, squeezing the hands of the boys next to him.

The other counsellors told their stories. John had cheated on his wife with a male friend and lost his family, was still trying to get them back but knew he could get their forgiveness if he stayed clean. Martin had gotten into debt because he'd been addicted to sex with male prostitutes and had realised he was disrespecting himself more than them, had felt sorry for them for feeling like they couldn't seek help.

Arthur had been fired because he was gay, had come to realise that the issue was with him and his inability to meet the expectations of his boss by letting his impulses define who he was. Neil had been disowned by his mother for his deviances and had been unable to make peace with her before she'd died, and felt horrible that they had gotten in the way of a meaningful relationship with his family. Oliver had never touched a man and said that he had gotten help before it had gotten out of hand, had come to this very camp when he was sixteen and had seen the path in front of him, was now very successful and with his own family, and had discovered that sex and companionship with his wife was one of the most rewarding elements of his life.

“Now we want to open it up to the circle.” Lachlan turned back to the group. “Let's get inspired by your struggles as well, and we can try to help. Because you're all beautiful and we love you, just like we love Adam, John, Neil, Oliver, Arthur and Martin. There's no reason to fear it, not if you're serious about getting help.”

There was silence for a long moment, and then a boy a few places to Mark's left raised a hand. He was tallish, maybe Mark's age, with dark hair and acne scars and looked thoroughly nervous.

“Hello Peter.” Lachlan smiled. “This is Peter, everybody.” They all murmured acknowledgements and hellos. Mark recognised him, sort of, as the boy who had hugged the dummy the night before. “What would you like to say Peter?”

“Just...” He swallowed hard. “I don't want to be gay.” He said finally. “I fight it and I... I try my best. But sometimes I feel like I can't hold back. I see...” He exhaled slowly. “I see boys in magazines or on the television or... or sometimes on the street and I want them. To... do things.” He went pink. “My friend was gay. He was properly... like, everyone knew he was and he got... he got bashed. To death.” He swallowed hard, sucking in a damp breath. “If he hadn't been... he wouldn't have died. They... they found him in the park and...” He pulled his hand from the grasp of the boy next to him and wiped his eyes. “I don't want to be like him.” He said quietly. “It's too dangerous. I want to change.”

“I'm sorry for your loss.” Lachlan said kindly. “But it's good that you've been able to recognise the danger, and I promise we can help. Peter nodded wordlessly, hand going back to the grip of the boy to his right. “You're very brave.” He looked around the circle again. “Who's next?”

The circle broke up about half an hour later. Not many other boys had spoken, but many of them had watched on earnestly as a few did, and he'd seen a lot of nodding heads. It was awful, the amount of stories he was hearing about how being gay had ruined these kids lives, felt himself get a little swept up in the emotion of it all. The last story was Luke's, who had been kissed by a friend without permission and been caught by his mother. He said they were worried that meant he was being turned gay because he thought maybe he'd liked it a little, and had wanted to come here to make sure he wasn't being led astray.

They closed on a prayer and went to get their bags, falling back into line on the way back to the canoes. Jonah was a few places ahead of him, hadn't spoken since they'd landed, and Mark was sort of glad. He didn't know what to say to him. It had all felt so exciting in the dark, when he'd been confused and taken unawares. Now he wasn't sure how he felt, not in the broad light of day when he could see the whole picture.

They went back to camp for a break in advance of the afternoon chapel service, and Mark sat on the grass with the others, dozing quietly and leaned against a large tree on the lawn.

“Well, that was eight shades of crazy.” Jonah snorted.

“What's that?” Sam asked.

“You know. I'm gay and it ruined my life. Fuck off.” There was a soft, bitter laugh. “Believe me, if something's going to ruin my life it isn't going to be dick.”

“He's got a point, though.” Sam said. “Like, it's hard, isn't it? All those things that can go wrong because you're different. Like, hell, I'm not even gay and my life's fucked because I'm different. If I could change it, be who my dad wanted me to be...” Mark opened his eyes to watch him shrug. “I don't know. Maybe I need to try harder.”

“To do what?” Jonah pulled a face. “If I spent my life worrying about what people wanted me to be I'd never bloody _be_ me. My life's fine. I do okay at school, I've got my mum and my sisters. Yeah, my dad's a dick but that's his business. It's not going to affect who I am.”

“Why did your mum send you here then?” Sam asked. Jonah didn't respond to that. His mouth opened like he was going to say something and then closed just as quickly.

Silence fell after that, but Mark couldn't stop the thought ticking over in his head. His parents had sent him here. Had said they loved him, had said he was wonderful and had supported and encouraged him at every turn, yet... this appeared to be something they were concerned about. This was, apparently, where the buck stopped.

He wondered what they'd say if he came home and said he'd kissed a boy.

If he said he'd liked it.

He closed his eyes again, trying to block out the whispers of uncertainty in the back of his skull.

 

*

 

They were back on the road by midnight, tucked up in their bunks and headed for Belfast for a couple of morning shows. Nicky lay wide awake, staring up at the bottom of Kian's bunk and trying to figure out if he was sleepy or not. He was tired, that wasn't a problem, felt bloody exhausted. Sleepy was a different matter, though, when his eyes were open and he could feel too much energy running through him.

He looked over. Mark was asleep, apparently. They all were. He could hear them all breathing slowly, mismatched rhythms mingling and making his lack of sleep all the more frustrating. He closed his eyes, hoping he could at least get some rest.

He thought he was maybe sort of starting to drift off when he heard Mark move across from him, heard him sit up. There was a slight rattle that could only be the sound of the curtain above his bed being pulled aside on its rail. Nicky opened his eyes, watching as glimpses of street lights and other cars flashed by the small opening, the back of Mark's head blocking the view.

He thought about saying something but wasn't sure what that would be. So instead he watched while Mark sat on the bed, face almost pressed to the glass and looking out, the lights casting flickering shadows across his face. After a while he closed his eyes, and eventually Nicky realised he'd fallen asleep, cheek against the glass while he sagged against the wall.

He got up, creeping across the floor, and carefully gathered the younger boy up, laying him down as silently as he could and trying not to wake him. Heard a muttering protest, and stroked dark hair back from a troubled face, tucking him in and kissing his forehead.

“Nicky?”

He paused halfway back to his bunk, turned to see eyes barely slitted open, a face half-concealed by blanket.

“Yeah?”

“You still up?”

“Yeah, bit awake.” Nicky shrugged, sitting back down on his own bed. “I didn't mean to wake you.”

“You didn't. I'm fine.” Mark yawned. “Sorry, is my window keeping you up? I can close it...” He reached out, but Nicky shook his head.

“It's fine. Leave it open if you like.” Mark's hand pulled away, tucking back under his face as he snuggled down in the sheets. “Are you okay?”

“I guess so.” He shrugged. “It was nice seeing everyone today.” Blue eyes closed, dark lashes fluttering sleepily. “Haven't been home in a while. S'nice.”

“Yeah.” Nicky nodded. “Can we talk?”

“Sure.”

“Can I come over there?”

Eyes opened again, dark and a little nervous.

“Why?”

“Because I don't want to wake the others up.” He explained, though he'd admit to himself that that wasn't entirely it. He was sick of dancing around each other, sick of forcing distance between them that didn't need to be there. “I'm not going to try anything. I just want to talk.”

“Okay.” Mark said hesitantly, sliding back. Nicky got up, climbing in with him and laying on his side. There was no space, so by necessity their faces were less than an inch apart. He shifted up slightly to avoid the temptation, and after a bit of awkward shuffling ended up on his back with Mark cuddled up to his shoulder, head in his neck. He wrapped an arm around him, wanting the feeling of warmth again and feeling totally heartbroken that this was all he was allowed.

“I'm really hurt.” Nicky said finally, not having known how to start and figuring that began to sum it up. He felt Mark shift against him, but when he looked down it was into a dark mop of hair. “If you wanted to break up you could have just said. You didn't have to...” He swallowed back tears. “Fuck.” He breathed.

“Sorry.” Mark whispered. “I didn't mean I thought you were a bad person or anything.”

“Really? Because all I heard was that I was some... some criminal or pervert or something just because...” He shook his head, knowing he was getting upset and not wanting to fly off the handle. Knowing he got emotional and not wanting to make things worse. “I've known I was gay since I was fifteen. Suspected it before then. I know who I am, and for the first time since I sorted that out I felt... not enough. Do you know what it's like to feel not enough?”

“Yeah.” Mark breathed. “I do.”

“Why would you do that to me, then? Why...?” He looked up at Shane's bunk, trying to find the words. “God, I don't know what to say.”

“I'm sorry.”

“For what? For saying it, or because I'm hurt?” He felt a shoulder hitch in a shrug. “Because you seemed pretty sure at the time.” Mark didn't reply, just tucked himself a little tighter into Nicky's chest. Nicky stroked his fingers down the back of his neck, unable to stop the flood of affection he'd always felt when he touched Mark. Wishing he could feel other things too. Belonging, safety, acceptance. Something that suggested this wasn't a tightrope they were walking.

“When I was seventeen...” He started, finally. “I kissed a boy for the very first time. He was beautiful. He had long brown hair and the most gorgeous brown eyes, like something you could fall into and I was madly in love with him. I wanted him too, but god... he was perfect. You know when you look at someone the first time and you just _know_ they'd absolutely have to be perfect?”

“Yeah.” Mark agreed quietly.

“Yeah.” He sighed. “But one day we were out at the shops. Just wandering around... window shopping sort of thing. Not even doing anything, not even holding hands. Just chilling out and being together. And some woman...” He looked down, but Mark's face was still averted. “She started going ballistic. Started shouting about how we should get our disgusting habits out where children couldn't see. How we should be ashamed of ourselves. And after a minute I recognised her. She was one of my mam's best friends, had found out from her that I was gay and saw us and just... lost it. Like she thought she was protecting the honour of my family or something.”

“What happened then?” Mark said hesitantly.

“I didn't want to say anything. I felt ashamed, you know? She got to me a bit, saying that my mam couldn't hold her head up any more, had to live with my burden. So when I went home I kept my mouth shut. I felt awful. I'd spent all this time trying to figure out who I was and my parents had been so supportive and in a second this person could just rip it all down. And yeah, it was just one person but how many others were thinking the same thing? I've never felt so small and shitty and angry in my whole life. Up until the other night.” He felt Mark flinch, and a part of him hoped it had hurt. “But you know what happened next?” Mark shook his head.

“She called my mother to let her know she'd seen me out. You know, being gay in public like some sort of heathen. And my mam _lost_ it. She started screaming down the phone about where this bitch could stick it. I didn't even know she knew half the words she said, but she just _went_ for it.” He smirked at the memory. “And then she hung up the phone and saw me standing at the bottom of the stairs, gaping like a fish, and hugged me. They didn't come round for tea again after that.” He heard a soft laugh and smiled, looking down. “So that's what happened to me.”

“What happened with the guy?”

“The lad I was seeing? We broke up a couple of months later. Summer fling. It was never meant to last, but it was fine. He was nice.”

“But none of that would have happened if you with a girl.”

“Probably not.” Nicky conceded. “But then my mam would still be friends with someone who was so black inside she'd call a teenager a heathen in public, scream at him like that. It's not ideal, but at least it's a good way to weed out the arseholes. You see who people are when they think they're right, and a lot of the time it's not what you'd expect. Her daughter ended up being a lesbian, actually. Funny how things work out. I feel sorry for her. I'd rather have a mam who sticks up for me. Parents aren't supposed to be ashamed of you, or they're not doing their job.”

“They just want the best for you, though.” Mark said. “Trying to point you in the right direction so you can be happy.”

“Are you happy?” Nicky asked. “You don't seem it.” Dead silence met his question and he shuffled down until they were face to face again. “There are so many worse things I could do. I could be a murderer or a terrorist. I could set dogs on fire and put it on YouTube. I could be in S Club 7.” That got a laugh, and Nicky grinned, glad to see a proper one again. Mark was beautiful when he laughed. “I've never hurt anyone on purpose, I don't think. I've never stolen anything. I've never shot anyone or hit a girl when I was drunk or done any of that. I just think boys are pretty.” He cupped a cheek, leaning their foreheads together. “I think you're pretty.”

Mark shook his head.

“No.”

“No, what?”

“I...” Mark swallowed, closing his eyes. “I can't. Okay? I just can't.”

“It's fine. Nobody's making you.” Nicky kissed his nose. “I never meant to make you think you had to. I thought you wanted to.”

“I did.” Mark said softly. “But I can't.”

“Why not?”

“I just... can't. I have to stop.” He sucked in a slow breath. “Sorry.”

“Okay.” Nicky nodded. “But you have to respect the fact that I'm not going to stop being gay just because you think that you can. I'm not ashamed of myself, and I won't let you make me feel like I should be. Anyway, I'll sic my mam on ya.” He laughed gently, got a halfhearted smile. “We have to work together. I'm not going to be at each other's throats if I don't have to.”

“I want to be friends.” Mark opened his eyes, and Nicky was caught. Just caught. Dark blue and so many layers he didn't know how to reach the bottom. “I do... love you.”

Nicky wanted to cry. Swallowed it back when he saw the earnest, beseeching look less than an inch from his face.

“I love you too.” He managed. “No matter what you are.”

He climbed out of Mark's bunk and back into his own. Turned away, trying to go to sleep, but feeling the echo of warmth up his side, the grasping memory of fingers on his chest, and when he turned over again to look Mark was sat up, his cheek pressed to the glass, eyes staring out the window.

 


	8. Chapter 8

He went to see Ben again as scheduled, sinking down into the same chair and accepting a glass of water again. They had a little chat about how things were going, about how his session with the dummy had been. Ben said he'd been really impressed with the way he'd spoken his mind, and for some reason Mark felt a little flush of pride. It had felt good, at the time, saying what he meant after long years keeping his mouth shut, so it was sort of nice to feel like that was a positive thing.

“Nice easy one today, Mark.” He smiled. “We're just going to watch a video.” He was pulling down a screen, and when Mark glanced around he realised there was a projector set up in the corner. “It's not a movie as such, it's just a few clips and I'm going to watch your responses. A bit like an inkblot test, but fancier. If you get uncomfortable at any point I want you to let me know.” A hand patted him on the shoulder. “Ready?”

He shrugged. The room plunged into darkness and he watched as the screen flickered for a minute.

An image came up. A dog. It was just... doing doggy things. Snuffling along the end of a fence, and then barking happily. He watched, not sure what the point was. There was no sound, just the dog. A moment later it switched to a clip of an aeroplane taking off.

A car. A tree, branches waving slightly in the breeze. They were all maybe three or four seconds long. Mark watched a basketball bounce off a wall and then disappear off the side of the screen. A feather floated down. He snuck a look at Ben, but the older man was watching him intently and he turned his gaze back to the screen. A hot air balloon. A butterfly.

A couple kissing. It was kind of cute, he supposed, but it was gone almost immediately. Two children waving at the camera. A woman doing the dishes. A cancerous heart, clotted and black in a surgical tray.

There was an odd feeling before he'd even registered it. Like a dog-whistle almost, a sudden high-pitched tingle in his ears. He couldn't hear it, but it was that unpleasant bubbling feeling. He stuck a finger in his ear, flinching, but as soon as he did it was gone. There was a man onscreen mowing a lawn. He shook his head, not sure what that had been, watching a clip of two children pushing each other on a tyre swing. An old couple holding hands.

The corpse of a dog, squashed by a car.

He winced, clapping his hand to his ear, sure he'd felt it again. A sudden sharp deafness in his ear. He clenched and unclenched his jaw a few times to clear it. It felt like swimmers ear or something, or when his stereo was turned up too loud and no music was playing. Like a wall of nothing. It seemed to stop as a picture of a birthday cake with flickering candles came up.

“Everything alright?”  
  
“Yeah.” Mark shook his head. “Can you hear that?”

“Hear what?”

“I...” He looked back at the screen. “Dunno. Just heard...” There was a carousel turning, horses moving up and down as they went around. A turtle, floating serenely through the water. A snake, slowly twisting the life out of a hen. He clapped his hand to his ear again, wincing. Bloody hell, what was that? The snake started to devour the chicken, and he felt his stomach roll. “Gross.” He muttered, still holding his ear. Two men kissing. He was too distracted to look at it properly, sticking his finger in his ear to clear it out. It didn't even hurt, it was just seriously irritating.

A second later the projector paused. Ben stood, switching the lights back on.

“You okay?”

“Yeah.” He shook his head. The noise had stopped. “Must have got some water in my ear or something.”

“Some people do have odd responses to that video.” Ben nodded. “I've had people get a little queasy in it. It's important, though.” He sat down. “Which clips did you like the best?”

“Um...” Mark shrugged. “The one with the dog was cute or whatever. And the turtle was cool.”

“Which ones did you like the least?”

“Erm...” He tried to think. “The chicken was pretty gross. With the snake. And the dead dog.” He shrugged.

“What about the ones with the family? Did you like those?”

“They were cute.” Ben nodded, turning to his computer to type something up.

“Excellent.” He smiled, reaching out to touch Mark gently on the knee. “Thanks for today, Mark. I really appreciate it. Is there anything I can do for you today? Anything you'd like to talk about?”

“Erm... I don't think so.” Mark shook his head, standing up. “Everything's fine. I miss my parents, I suppose.”

“Would you like to send them a letter?” Ben asked. “You can write them if you like.”

“I...” Mark paused. He didn't know what he'd write. It was different from being on the phone, where at least he could ask what was going on. Try to explain himself. A letter felt too formal, like too many assumptions would have to be made for him to get the words out. That they'd meant to send him here for the reasons that he suspected. That they were that disappointed in him. “It's fine. Thanks, though.”

“Not at all. If you want to, let me know.” Ben smiled. “I like you, Mark. You're a good kid.” A hand settled on his shoulder. “I think you can be anything you want, with a bit of hard work. I think you can make your parents really proud. I don't want to see you being less than yourself.”

“Thanks.” He mumbled, feeling his cheeks flush.

He stumbled out of the office and headed for dinner.

 

*

 

The hotel pool was deserted. It was late, and they'd finally been afforded another stopover after two nights driving through the UK. It was gruelling, working their way to London from Newcastle. He was bloody sick of the song, he knew that much. Was sick of being crammed in with everyone else and not feeling like any choice was his own. Not having his own space. Always turning around and being face-to-face with another human being.

He sat on the edge, cotton pants rolled up to his knees and legs in the water, kicking slowly back and forth and watching ripples spread. He wasn't much of a swimmer, but this was a nice distraction from the summer heat.

The pool gate creaked behind him and he turned to look, smiling when he realised it was Mark. Things had been okay the last two days. There'd been tentative contact, at least. Not back to the way things had been, but in an odd way they felt a little more real, like they'd finally forced some honesty into the mess of lies and secrets between them. Not that Nicky had been trying to hide anything but it had been good to get some stuff off his chest.

Mark sat down next to him, tugging his pants up to his knees as well and sinking his feet in the water. Nicky nodded a greeting, patted his hand where it was gripping the edge of the pool.

“How's it going?”

“Fine.” Nicky replied. “Sick of the bloody bus, I know that. It's going to be weird sleeping on a bed that's not moving.”

“Yeah.” Mark snorted. The sun was going down, dark and red on the horizon and making him squint, sending a rippling bronze shine off the water. “I was thinking about maybe going out tonight. Stretch my legs, sort of thing. Go have a couple of drinks.”

“Sounds good. Where do you want to go?”

“Not sure.” He yawned. “If I make it out at all.” He admitted. “Bed sounds pretty good as well.”

“You want to go get some dinner or something? Nicky suggested. “Something proper? Have a couple of drinks and see how we feel?”

“Just us?”

“Up to you. The other lads as well, if you want.” He kicked slightly at the water, watching his heels splash down onto the surface.

“It can be just us if you like.” Mark hedged. Nicky smiled, looking up at him. He was looking determinedly at the water, face averted. “If you want to like... talk, or whatever.”

“Do you want to talk?” Mark hitched a shoulder, still not looking at him. “At least if it's just us two it'll be easier to pick somewhere to eat.” He suggested, trying to show a bit of mercy to the obviously nervous boy next to him.

“That's true.”

“You want to head off now?”

“No.” Mark shook his head. “It's fine. I can just chill here for a bit.” He looked sidelong at Nicky, his hair catching the last flickers of light. Nicky smiled, reaching up a hand to touch his cheek, unable to stop himself. There was movement out of the corner of his eye, though, and he changed tack, feeling Mark a startled flinch. His hand landed on a broad shoulder instead as a couple of girls came into the pool area, laughing and talking.

He let go, slid away a little so it didn't look as obvious. Hating the fact that he was trying to hide. Hating that there wasn't anything to hide anyway.

Mark blushed pink, though it might have just been the red of the sunset. Before Nicky could stop him he stood, casting wary glances at the girls.

“I'm gonna go have a shower.” He said quickly. “Come get me when you're ready to go."

He nearly fled the pool. Nicky sighed, turning back to watch the sun disappear below the horizon.

 

*

 

Kissing Jonah was...

He couldn't say it out loud, but it was good. God it was good. Feeling him hard against him, feeling fingers in his hair and a mouth devouring his and opening his eyes to see green ones fluttering open and looking back, then falling closed again when they tilted harder into it, their hips grinding slowly together.

“Fuck.” Jonah muttered, and Mark whimpered when a tongue licked up his jaw, teasing behind his ear while fingers worked up under his t-shirt. “Need you.” He gasped. Mark groaned, arms tightening around strong shoulders and feeling his thigh lift automatically, feeling that open everything up so it felt even better. Better than better, like hard contact right where he needed it, right where it had never been when he was on his own.

“Ah...” He gasped, feeling the tension get harder, the pressure spiral deeper. “Oh Jesus, we need to stop.”

“Why?” Jonah groaned. They were hidden behind a tree a little way into the woods. Had been given a half hour break to sort out their cabins and have some free time before dinner. Mark had meant to go to the library to see if he could find a book or something, and then he'd seen Jonah beckoning quietly from around a corner, a naughty look on his face, and he'd found his feet carrying him over, found himself laughing when Jonah had dashed ahead and he'd followed, slipping into the trees and looking around themselves for somewhere to sneak away.

“God, I'm gonna...” He gasped, heard a soft moan, fingers scrambling at his belt. “Oh shit.” His head went back, thunking hard into the trunk of the tree.

“Let me.” Jonah murmured. “I want to. Fuck.” They both looked down at the same time, Mark groaning when he realised how hard the other boy was. “Can I?”

He nodded. Felt like if he said it out loud it would be too much but fuck, of course Jonah could. Not that it was about to make a difference either way, not if something didn't happen soon. His hips were moving and when fingers closed around him he had to bite his lip to hold back a cry.

It felt too good. Way too good. A hand on him that wasn't his own, that squeezed and fumbled a bit but was moving in a way that he couldn't predict, was twisting suddenly _there_ while his hands clawed at shoulders, their tongues battling hard in the space of his mouth and that was... oh fuck, that was...

“So sexy.” Jonah whispered. “So close.” He admitted. Mark whined out something that might have been a plea and then he was done, coming hard over pumping fingers and feeling the other boy gasp against his mouth, feeling answering hardness grind into his thigh. “Shit.” Jonah panted, fumbling with his own belt. Mark helped, his fingers clumsy while he was distracted with the mouth on his, the trembling pleasure still rolling through him.

Then it was in his hand. He barely had to do anything. Felt Jonah jerk once, twice, into the circle of his fist. Hot and firm and  _ throbbing _ and if he could have come again he would have, shivering when a mouth parted against his, when he swallowed a sobbing groan and felt his hand become slick with heat, felt an arm cling to his shoulders.

“Wow.” Jonah spoke first, still gasping and giggling against his chest. Mark laughed too, not sure whether he felt impossibly light or totally heavy. He leaned against the tree, trying to tug his jeans up enough that his arse wasn't scraping on the bark. Sweaty hair was pushed out of his face, and he was nudged into a breathless kiss that was more of a nuzzle than a snog.

They tidied up, rinsing their hands in a puddle and giggling when they tried to wipe the last of it off on the bed of leaves, then began to walk back, Mark walking slightly stiffly as he tried to work past the sensitivity in his boxers.

“Where have you been?” Sam hissed. Mark blinked, not sure what he was talking about.

“Went for a walk.” Jonah shrugged. “Why?”

“They did head-count. Nobody could find you.” Sam glanced over their shoulder, and Mark turned to watch a couple of red whistles come up the steps behind them.

“Lads.” One of them nodded. “Where were you?”

“Just went for a walk.” Jonah said again.

“Both of you?”

“Yeah. I mean. Separately. We ran into each other on the way back.”

“You both happened to go missing and happened to run into each other on the way back.” One of them crossed his arms. “Were you outside camp boundaries? Because we checked perimeter.”

“I... I don't know.” Jonah shrugged. “I just went up the path a bit.”

“You know you're not to leave camp. Where did you go?” They turned on Mark. He didn't know what to say. The words seemed frozen in his throat.

“To... just up past the trees. I got turned around, I think. Jonah found me.”

“So you both left camp without permission. Together.” The other counsellor raised an eyebrow. Mark recognised him as Martin, the one with the prostitute problem. He was writing something down on his clipboard. “You were caught together yesterday morning as well and were given a warning.”

“It was an accident...”

“No, it shows that you're not committed. That you can't take this seriously. And if you can't follow the rules here, how will you be able to stay resolute outside?” He shook his head. “I'm disappointed. Boys...” He looked over their shoulders. “You two can go to dinner.” Sam and Gabriel nodded, slipping past without looking at them, their heads down as they headed across the grass. “Follow me.”

They did, trudging across the grass to the hall, the same one they'd been sat in when they'd been working with the dummy. A bucket of soapy water was produced a second later.

It was hell. They weren't allowed to crouch, weren't allowed to kneel. It was just bending at the waist, not speaking, no other distractions while they worked their way across the whole floor. It was over half an hour later that they were allowed to stand. His back had started to hurt after the first five minutes, the blood rushing to his head where he was bent down. Jonah had gone to stand once and been told that they'd rest the bucket on his back if he couldn't stay down.

The two counsellors watched the whole time. It was sort of creepy, feeling eyes on you and glancing up to see them staring. When they made it to the dining hall there was nothing left but a few cold vegetables and a couple of bread-rolls. They collapsed down at the table with the others, Mark's back on fire, his hands irritated and wrinkled from the soap.

He thought about trying to say something at campfire. Trying to apologise, maybe, for not being quick enough to make up an excuse. Instead he stayed quiet, watching the flames flicker and feeling the eyes of the counsellors on him.

 

*

 

“More?” Nicky asked, reaching out with the jug of beer. There were sat in an out of the way pizzeria, had discussed going somewhere fancy but figured that was way too high profile. They were splitting a large pepperoni and Nicky was glad he'd come here instead of a five-star restaurant, where there was rock music playing over the speakers and he could get grease all over his fingers while Mark battled with stringy cheese as he tried to take a bite.

“Thanks.” Mark nodded, and Nicky refilled his glass. “This pizza's bloody great.” He mumbled around a mouthful of dough. Nicky took another bite of his own, then washed it down with a mouthful of beer, laughing when Mark tried to take another bite before he'd swallowed the first one.

“Slow down.” He laughed. “A bit hungry, are ye?”

“God, yeah.” Mark swallowed. “I try eating on the bus, but then I just feel carsick and it's no bloody good.” He took another bite.

“You haven't been feeling well?”

“No. Well, not like sick or whatever. Just not a hundred percent.”

“That why you've been in the bathroom so much?”

Mark hitched a shoulder, and Nicky saw his eyes drop away, falling back onto his plate. He put the slice down, sipped his beer, then wiped his mouth with the back of his arm.

“How sick are you of the song?” He asked, wanting to diffuse the sudden discomfort but filing it away for later reflection, along with all the other things about Mark that didn't seem quite right somehow.

“You mean, 'This is our new single, If I Let You Go, and it's out on the ninth of August?'” Nicky laughed, shaking his head. “It's bloody fantastic. Do you know when it's coming out?”

“Is it the ninth of August?”

“Might be. I can't remember.” Mark rolled his eyes. “It's good. I like the song. I'm just sick of talking about it.” He took another bite of his pizza. “It was good getting to go to Sligo. I hadn't seen my parents in a couple of months.”

“How are they?” Nicky asked. “I didn't get to talk to them.”

“Fine.” He flushed a little, though. “They said they were proud.”

“That's good. I'm proud of you.”

“Oh.” Mark looked up from under lowered lashes. “Why?”  
  
“I'm proud of all of us.” Nicky explained. “Remember when we were these fucking teenagers stumbling around at The Pod? Couldn't dance, no idea what we were doing. The worst clothes and haircuts of all time, thank you very much Kian.”

“It wasn't that bad.”  
  
“It was wretched.” They both laughed. “Shane looked like he'd crawled out of a bloody barn.”

“You and Bryan were okay.”

“Of course we were. We're from Dublin. We're cool.” He touched his hair, smiling. “Good thing I got a haircut, though. The ginger mop couldn't last forever.”

“I liked the ginger.” Mark smirked. “It distracted from the terrible curtains I was sporting.”

“No, I can guarantee you it didn't.” Nicky shot back. “You could see those things from space.” He grinned, refilling his beer. “No. I'm really proud of us. We're doing well, and I know you guys have known each other longer, but I couldn't ask for a better bunch of lads to do this with. Like, Bryan's mad, obviously, but Shane and Kian are really cool as well, and...” He paused, not knowing what he wanted to say. When he looked up, Mark was watching him, a slice of pizza halfway to his mouth. “I like all of you.” He finished.

“Yeah.” Mark drained the rest of his glass. “You want another drink?”

Once the pizza was gone they stumbled out of the restaurant, two jugs of beer in and a bit giggly. Nicky wasn't sure where they were going, but they stumbled down the road until they found a place with no queue and too many flashing neon lights. Mark bought them a few cocktails and Nicky got up to dance, trying to tug Mark with him and ending up on his own while Mark held the drinks and leaned against a table, shaking his head when Nicky tried to get him involved.

He was a bit parched, so he necked the cocktail, got them another round. Then a couple more. It was past two in the morning when they staggered back out, Mark hanging off his shoulder and laughing while Nicky did terrible impressions of Louis, waving his hands and babbling in a high-pitched voice.

“Stop...” Mark was bent double, his hand against a tree, laughing so hard his face was red. Nicky giggled, tugging his pants up higher and starting to do a quite decent Simon, shaking his finger and calling Mark kiddo a lot. “Stop it.” He croaked, hand over his stomach like he was trying to hold himself together, whole body wracked with laughter. “Stop. You're gonna kill me.”

“Look, I love you guys, I do, but if you could just change everything about yourselves that'd be great...” Nicky leaned against the tree as well. “Now get out and stop wasting my time.”

“Fuck off.” Mark giggled. “Where are we going?”

“Head back?” Nicky suggested. “Hotel minibar?”

“Ooh, yeah.” He got a silly grin. “Could go a packet of crisps.”

“We can do that.” He waved down a cab, and was shoving Mark in few seconds later, climbing into the front. When he looked back over his shoulder the younger boy was leaned against the window, his eyes half closed and his face cast in shadow, flashing occasionally with colour from the lights of the other cars. He looked impossibly beautiful; totally, strangely alone.

They made it back inside. The lifts were glass, so he didn't mind them too much, but he felt a warm glow when a hand slipped into his, and when he turned Mark was watching him earnestly.

“You okay?” He was obviously tanked, eyes not quite settling while he looked at Nicky, lower lip hanging a little slack, but he squeezed Nicky's hand anyway.

“I'm fine.” Nicky stepped a little closer, felt the hand let go and settle on his shoulder. “Hate these things.”

“I know.” He was tugged into a hug a second later. “It'll be over in a minute.” A kiss brushed his hair. “We going to mine?”  
  
“Yeah. Shane'll probably be asleep.” The doors dinged open, and for the first time in his life he was a little disappointed to get out of a lift. Fingers gripped his wrist after Mark let go and tugged him along. He followed, laughing when Mark fumbled with the key card.

“Green light. Handle.” He pushed down. It clicked, the light going red again. He shoved the card in the slot again. “Green light.” He pursed his lips, then pushed down. Nothing. “The thing's broken.” He complained. Nicky took it from him.

“Let me.” He got it on the second try, got a pout when he turned to whoop in triumph.

“I loosened it up for you.”

“Sure you did.” They fell inside. Mark was on his knees in front of the minibar before Nicky even got his jacket off, rummaging and yanking out packets of crisps, tossing them backwards onto the bed. Nicky grabbed two, ripping them open.

“Tiny vodka?”

“Yes please.” Nicky caught his, grinning when Mark climbed onto the bed, both of them sitting cross-legged either side of the crisps and unscrewing the lids. “Cheers.”

“Cheers.” They knocked them back fast, pulling faces, then laughing, grabbing handfuls of crisps, which definitely helped with the taste. “I'm going to be so fucking hungover tomorrow.”

“We'll sleep on the bus.” Nicky shrugged, stuffing another handful in his mouth. “Then Red Bull.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Mark agreed. “Want to see if there's something on TV?”

“Yes I do.” He grabbed the remote, scooting back on the bed and putting the crisps on his lap. Mark climbed up next to him, leaning against the pillows. Halfway through an infomercial he reached an arm out, felt a head land on his shoulder. It was nice. Snuggly and warm. Mark shifted to turn out the lights, and to Nicky's surprise leaned into him again, closing his eyes and resting his head in Nicky's neck.

He began to change channels, but by the time he'd settled on a late movie he realised Mark was asleep, looked down to see closed eyes, parted lips, and cheeks flushed with drink.

 


	9. Chapter 9

“Come on.”

“No, not after last time.” Mark shook his head, laughing despite himself when Jonah pouted. “I'm not scrubbing the bloody hall again.”

“We won't get caught...”

“Yeah, right.” Mark rolled his eyes. “Eejit.”

“You don't want to?”

“I didn't say that.” He conceded. “I just want to avoid getting in trouble again.” Fingers reached out to catch his and he pulled away. “Stop. We'll get caught.”

“Fine.” Jonah pouted. They were on the way to the hall. Probably weren't supposed to be alone together, but there were plenty of other people wandering around so it wasn't like they could be picked out for just having a chat in secret or anything. “I'll just have to think about you in the shower, then.”

Mark felt himself blush. Didn't want to admit that he'd done the same that morning, stroking himself and biting his lip hard so nobody else would hear him. Glad he'd gone in early when they were almost empty, and freezing with his hand on his cock when a counsellor came in and told him to hurry it up. He hadn't been able to finish, which made this all the more tempting. He couldn't risk it, though. Not again.

They went inside, separating to avoid looking like they'd come in together. Mark knew they were being watched, had felt eyes prickling on the two of them at campfire the night before. Not that there was much going on. It was hard to do anything when they were supposed to be in groups all the time, which he suspected was sort of the point. He wondered if there were any other boys doing the same thing. Any of the girls. He wondered what happened if you got caught.

He didn't want to get caught. Thought that was maybe the most concerning part of the whole thing, the main reason he was pulling away. Not by the counsellors, though he didn't want to be scrubbing again, but he didn't want his parents to find out. Suspecting was one thing, but if they got a call to say he'd been caught kissing another boy. Doing... things with another boy. He couldn't take it. Could feel their disappointment hanging about him like a black cloud.

There was a screen set up at the front and this time they got to sit in rows facing it instead of in a circle. He ended up between Sam and another boys whose name he had forgotten, cross-legged in the fifth row. It was Damien again, and he was smiling as usual. Mark wondered if these guys ever frowned. He never had any idea what was going on in their heads, not with a smile plastered all over it.

“Today we're going to talk about the health risks of homosexuality.” He sat down on a stool, the remote for the projector in has hand. “As you should be aware, the homosexual lifestyle is one founded on promiscuity. Gay men will often have over a hundred sexual partners in their lifetimes and many of these will be without protection. This year's data shows that nearly seventy percent of men with AIDS have had sexual contact with other men. In the last decade alone it has been estimated that fifty percent of all men who engage in homosexual acts in their twenties will become HIV positive by the time they are fifty-five.”

“I have a question.” Jonah raised his hand. Damien nodded, looking at him with a smile. “If it's been shown in the last decade, how can you know what a twenty year old will be doing when he's fifty-five? Unless he's aged thirty-five years in the last ten.”

“The statistics show...”

“Who was the study by? Which journal can I find it in?” Jonah crossed his arms. “Also, what if I have sex with protection? Will I still get AIDS?”

“We can save the questions for the end.” Damien was still smiling, but it looked forced and brittle. “As far as protected sex goes, we'll be getting to that in the next few minutes. Jonah is correct. It's a number based on estimates judging from the current figures on the rise of sexually transmitted diseases. Thank you for your question, Jonah. Men who engage in homosexual acts are also more prone to contracting diseases like...” He continued, pressing the remote.

Mark felt his stomach roll. Somewhere to his left he heard someone gag.

“Herpes.” He pressed the button again and the image changed. “Gonorrhoea. Hepatitis B and C.” The boy next to him covered his mouth. Mark wanted to cover his eyes, but he couldn't look away from the horror-show of blisters and open sores on-screen. “Chlamydia.” A roll of disgusted groans filled the room. “Anal cancer.” He did cover his eyes at that one, burying his face in his hands. By the time he was peeking through his fingers Damien was announcing Syphilis, and stating that eighty-five percent of all cases were found in men who had engaged in homosexuality.

Jonah raised his hand again. It was ignored.

“Gastrointestinal and parasitic infections are also extremely common due to something scientists are calling Gay Bowel, which occurs during oral-anal contact, performing oral sex on a man who has had anal intercourse, and during unprotected anal intercourse.”

“Oh my god.” He heard another boy mutter, was too busy focusing on not throwing up to pay much attention as the images clicked past. Haemorrhoids, anal fissures, genital warts...

“In addition to sodomy, trauma can be caused by foreign bodies including unsterilised aids, prosthetics and piercings, which can also cause infection.”

“I have a question.”

“Save it for the end, Jonah.”

“But...” Jonah stood up. “This is bullshit. You know that right?” Two red whistles were already heading over. “Are you actually telling me that not a single straight guy has ever gotten Chlamydia off their girlfriend?”

“Promiscuous practices do also occur in heterosexual relationships, yes.” Damien nodded. “But statistically the risk-taking lifestyle is associated with the same mental disorder that influences homosexuality, and the sexual acts involved in homosexuality are more likely to cause these diseases.”

“What if I want to fuck my girlfriend in the arse?”

“Why would you want to do that unless you were compensating for homosexual feelings? That's a slippery slope, Jonah. And if one is in a committed relationship then the focus should be on marriage and procreation.”

“What if she wants me to?”

“Then I hope she can get help for whatever mental trauma she's suffered in her life.” Damien shook his head sadly. “Jonah, I'm going to ask you to sit down now. Your behaviour is extremely selfish. We're trying to provide these boys with the right information so they can make good choices, and you're being disrespectful of that.”

“I...” A hand landed on his shoulder. He shook it off. “They're lying to you.” He looked around, his eyes falling on Mark. “This is fucking crazy.”

“Jonah, I know your feelings can be overwhelming, but we're trying to help you. Your mother doesn't want you going back to the hospital, I'm sure.”

Mark looked up in confusion, saw Jonah go pale, his lips stutter on whatever he'd been about to say next.

“Guys, I know this is confusing.” Damien turned back to the group. “But I think it's important to know where Jonah's anger is coming from so we can help him heal. Jonah...” He stood up, going over to pull the boy into a hug. He struggled, but there were two red whistles behind him, holding him. “It's okay. We forgive you.”

“Fuck you.” He growled.

“We all forgive you.” He kissed Jonah's cheek. “Jonah suffers from manic depression, and has been diagnosed as paranoid schizophrenic. It's not his fault at all, but sometimes he has difficulty keeping the truth and his fantasies separate. But he's been working on it, and god has sent these things to test him. But together we can all help him get on the right path. Would you like to tell the others why you were in hospital, Jonah?”

“I...” Jonah sagged. He didn't pull away, but he slouched backwards, like he was trying to fall out of the embrace without giving in to it. “I tried to stab a teacher with a pair of scissors.” He said finally. Mark felt himself reel with shock.

“Why?”

“Because...” Jonah shook his head. “Because I thought she was trying to kill me.” He muttered. He was looking down at the floor. Mark wanted him to look over, to get some sort of reassurance that it wasn't true, that...

“Because you were confused. Because you were listening to what you wanted to hear instead of what was real.” Damien hugged him a little tighter, then let go. “Would you like to go lie down, Jonah?”

“I...” He chewed his lip. “Yeah.” He said after a minute. His face was flushed dark red. He was led from the room by two of the counsellors, each with an arm around his shoulder. When Damien turned back the room was still sat in shocked silence. Mark wanted to cry.

“Now...” Damien continued, getting back onto his stool. “Let's talk about the mental and emotional health risks...”

 

*

 

Nicky did not appreciate the way the others were sniggering. He appreciated less the pounding in the back of his head and the persistent taste of vomit in his throat, and he couldn't say he was a particular fan of having camera flashes going off in his face for the last twenty minutes, every single one searing across his eyeballs and into the back of his skull.

“Nicky, can I get your chin down a bit? That's it...” He did as he was told. It was surprising how quickly he'd gotten the hang of this, the posing and pouting and knowing how to look down the camera in a thousand different ways so the photographers could get their shots with a minimum of fuss or mucking about. And today he was bloody glad for it, even all he wanted to do was wash the make-up off with a scourer and collapse back into bed.

He was done. Finally. Collapsed back down onto the couch next to Kian, who was smirking so hard Nicky was surprised his head hadn't flipped open. Bryan took his place.

“How you doing, Nico?”

“Fuck off, Shane.” He leaned his head back. “God, I want to _die._ ”

“We did try to warn you.” In fairness, they had. Nicky had woken up that morning facedown in a pile of broken crisps, a tiny vodka bottle jammed painfully under his hip. Mark had already been throwing up in the bathroom, and there had been about six missed calls on his phone from throughout the night. Of course the fucking thing had been on silent, but it was too late for that now because here he was at a photoshoot at seven in the fucking morning, squeezing it in before they got back on the road.

“Where's Mark?”

“Bathroom.” Kian yawned. “What did you two do last night?”

“I don't even know.” Nicky groaned. “We had pizza.”

“Was it topped with Bacardi?”

“Maybe. Who knows.” He leaned forward again, resting his head in his hands. “We went to a club and then...”

“Thanks for inviting us.”

“Fuck off, Kian.” He swallowed back his rising stomach and then realised it was too late, started staggering to the bathroom while the others applauded behind him. Mark looked up in surprise when he came in, then shifted over when Nicky leaned next to him and threw up, eyes closed so he didn't have to look at what was already in the bowl.

“Hey.”

“Hey.” Nicky reached up to flush, then rested his elbows on the seat as Mark leaned back over to rest on the other side, their foreheads almost touching. “Ugh.”

“Yeah.” Mark looked pale and horrible, sweaty underneath the make-up. He'd done his shots first, which was probably a blessing because Nicky didn't think he'd get through them now. “Can I pass out yet?”

“Not yet.” He wiped his mouth. “Good night, though. I don't remember half of it.”

“Me neither.” Mark paused, a sudden look of panic flashing across his face. “We didn't...?”

“No.” Nicky snorted. “I'm offended, though. I'd like to think I'm more memorable than that.” He watched Mark blush, then shake his head on a soft chuckle.

“You are.”

“Grand. Good to know.” He patted a trembling hand. “You're pretty memorable as well.”

“Thank you.” The laugh he got next was sweet and self-conscious. “I can't say I've had much practice.”

“Beginner's luck.” Nicky winked. He was about to ask how much practice Mark had had, but then the younger boy started to retch. His urge to laugh was diverted by a sudden swell of vomit, heaving violently and trying to not to get any in Mark's hair.

They staggered back onto the bus an hour later, Mark collapsing into his bunk while Nicky found somewhere he could see out the window so the rocking of the bus wouldn't make him be sick again. The road was moving past too quickly, so he locked his eyes on the horizon, trying to find a bit of equilibrium and blocking out the noises of the other boys chatting around him, their voices far too loud when he was this hungover.

He nodded off, came to, and managed a cup of coffee that Shane pushed into his trembling hands. Mark was still asleep and they were coming up on Bristol. He quite wanted to die.

By the middle of the afternoon they were almost into Cardiff and stopping for lunch. The others piled out, and he staggered out after them, breathing in deep of cold, fresh air and smiling when Mark gave him a concerned look. The other boy was starting to look a bit better now, was practically functional, and Nicky was profoundly jealous. Climbed back onto the bus while the others ran into the McDonalds. He declined the offer of grabbing him something and fell onto his bunk, thinking maybe he could get a moment of sleep.

He reached into his pocket to pull his wallet and phone out, wanting to be a bit more comfortable. Stopped. There was a piece of crumpled paper caught between the flaps of his wallet, just sticking out. He tugged on it. Unfolded it.

Charlie's phone number.

He bit his lip, not knowing if he'd already decided to call before he picked up his phone and began to dial. It was ringing a second later though and it was too late to change his mind.

It picked up on the third ring.

“Hiya, this is Charlie!” He was about to reply when he realised it was a voicemail recording. “I'm not near my phone but tell me what ya want and I'll get back to you!”

He didn't know what to say for a second. Considered hanging up. But then the beep for the beginning of the message went off in his ear and he was talking without meaning to, explaining that he was a friend of Mark Feehily's and if she could call him back that would be brilliant. He left his number just in time, right before it beeped again and cut out.

He sat on his bed for a few minutes, not sure what he'd just done or why. Not sure if he wanted her to call back or not. Not sure where to start when she did.

 

*

 

“Mark?”

“Hey Charlie.” He managed a smile, looking up. She was stood in front of him wearing a knee-length dress with flowers on it, and for a long moment he couldn't figure out what else was different. Then he realised she was wearing make-up. “You look nice.” He attempted.

“God, don't.” She rolled her eyes, sinking down. “I feel like a two-penny stripper.” She leaned against the tree next to him, crossing her arms. “We had to do lessons so we'd know how to make ourselves up. I already know how to put on mascara, I just choose not to when we're supposed to be at a bloody outdoor camp. Not that I've gotten to do much outdoors.” She sighed. “What have you been doing?"

“Sex ed.” He didn't want to talk about it, really, was avoiding going back to the cabin knowing Jonah would be there. Not knowing how to face him, how to feel about what had happened only an hour before. He wasn't sure if he was angry at being lied to, or if he was miserable that Jonah had gone through all that, didn't know what the implication was for the two of them. Felt totally unsure now about his intentions. Jonah was a good liar, he'd seen that already, and now apparently he was just as good at lying to himself. He was proud of being gay, was the only one who seemed to speak up, and now it appeared he was ill. Unbalanced. Mark didn't know what that made him.

“We had that this morning.” She sank down next to him. “The gist was lie back and take it, and if you're really lucky you'll have a baby. Then we learned how to change nappies and stuff.”

“You don't want kids?”

“I haven't really thought about it. Though after watching my mum I can't say parenting is top of the list.” She shrugged. “I dunno. Emma likes kids. I like animals better. At least they won't grow up to hate you.” He looked up when she nudged his shoulder. “So, you and Jonah, huh?”

“What? No. What?” He managed, feeling his stomach knot. “Fuck off.”

“Come on.” She rolled her eyes. “I see the way he looks at you.”

“I haven't noticed.”

“Right, well...” A hand patted him gently on the thigh. “He's nice. You don't fancy him?”

“I...” Mark didn't know what to say. “He's a good guy. I don't know. I'm not gay. I can't be...” He chewed his lip, trying his best not to let everything he was thinking spill out, feeling it ache in his chest like a fist. “He's sick.”

“What do you mean?”

“He's...” He shook his head, feeling like he was betraying his friend. It was all over camp by now, though, so he supposed she'd be hearing about it sooner or later. And it wasn't like Jonah had been totally upfront with him. “He's... sick.” He said finally. “He tried to stab one of his teachers at school.”

“Fuck...” She breathed. “Did he tell you that?”

“No. He... he was freaking out in sex ed. Saying stuff. I don't know. And... and he started to shout a lot and they had to calm him down and...” His eyes felt hot with tears as he remembered the way Damien had hugged him, trying to make him see sense. “I think he's been in a mental hospital.”

“Wow.” She shook her head. “You wouldn't think it, would you?” Mark shook his head, blinking away the tears he didn't want to shed. “Is he okay?”

“Schizophrenic or something. Manic depression. I don't know.”

“No, I mean, is he okay after today?” She glanced over at their cabin. They could just see it from here. “Is someone taking care of him?”  
  
“I don't know. I think he went to lie down.”  
  
“Oh.” She craned her neck a little. “You've checked on him, though?”

“Not... no.” He felt a rolling swell of guilt and wasn't sure why. “I will in a minute.”  
  
“Okay. Cool. Well...” She stood back up, awkward as she tried to stop her dress flapping up in the breeze. “I've got bloody cooking detail again tonight. I think we're doing casserole or something. Let me know how he is, alright?” A hand squeezed his shoulder. “See you at dinner.” He watched her go, then turned back to look at the cabin, feeling sick and ashamed.

It was dark when he stepped inside. Quiet. The others were gone and he wasn't sure what to do, whether they were going to get in trouble for being alone together again. But there was a lump under the blankets of the bunk above his and he stepped a little closer, feeling panic settle into his chest.

“Hey.” He said finally. The blanket moved down a little, red, wet eyes peering back at him.

“What do you want?”

“Just thought I'd see if you were okay.”

“I'm fine.” The blanket went back up again. “Leave me alone.”

He didn't know what to say to that, just sank down on his bed, feeling heavy and ill. He'd felt ill ever since they'd come out of the hall, the images on-screen burned into the backs of his eyes. Too many numbers and statistics. Suicide rates. Infection rates. Shortened lifespan. Drug use.

“Jonah?”

“What?”

“I'm not supposed to be in here, like... the two of us, but... if you want to come hang out or something we can go find the others.”

“I'm okay here.”

He hesitated. “Are you going to come to dinner?”

“I don't know.”

“Can I do anything?”

“No.”

“Okay.” Mark began to grab his toiletries, figuring he had time for a shower. He felt dirty all over, in a way that couldn't be scrubbed clean. “Well, I'm going to go shower, so.”

“Cool.”

“I...” He swallowed. “Do you want to hang out on the hiking trip tomorrow?”

“Mark...” Jonah sighed. “Just... Can you leave me alone, please? I don't want to talk to you right now.”

“Okay. Yeah.” He retreated, feeling totally helpless. The blanket was still up and he wished he could see Jonah's face, wished he could get some explanation, have him find a way to say it was okay. That it was a mistake. That Jonah wasn't just messed up and dragging him along for the ride, getting him confused when he was supposed to be here for a reason.

A few of the showers were occupied. He slid into a stall and turned on the water, shivering when he took off his clothes in the small, cold space. The hot water kicked in a moment later. He stepped under it, tipping his head back and trying to wash as best as he could, starting when there was a knock on the door.

“No mucking around in there!”

He wanted to protest, say he'd only just gotten in, but there didn't seem to be much point. He finished quickly, rinsing off the soap, and when he left there was a counsellor stood at the door with his arms crossed, checking his watch.

When he got back to the cabin Jonah was gone.

He found him at dinner, sitting at the usual table while Sam and Gabriel talked next to him. He didn't look up when Mark sat down, just kept picking at a plate that still appeared to be full.

“Hi.” He said finally. Mark looked up from where he'd been staring at his own meal, not feeling remotely hungry after the day he'd had.

“Hey.” He murmured back. “Are you alright?”

“I think everyone already knows by now that I'm not.” He shook his head, mouth twisting into a pained grimace. “Sorry about today. I didn't mean to fly off like that. I just got upset and...” He shook his head. “I... I lash out sometimes and I can't help it. Especially when things get me angry or I feel cornered. I take things personally when I shouldn't. I'm working on it.”

“Are you angry now?”

“Yes.” Green eyes flicked up to look at him, muddled and earnest. “I'm really sorry. I had a talk with my counsellor and I feel a bit better.”

“What did he say?"

“Nothing.” He leaned his chin in his hand, fork still swirling the casserole around the plate. “I just talked. He's probably not a bad guy. Like, I think he is but I'm probably just being paranoid. Maybe I need to shut up and listen for once. My mum's always saying I should. I've put her through enough grief. I've been to see way too many doctors over the last couple of years and none of them help. Maybe I should give this more of a chance.”

“Did you really try to stab somebody?”

“I really did.” A rueful smile darted across his face. “I don't know what's going on half the time, to be honest. I get... fixated. Especially if I think I'm right. I'm on my drugs, but I'm a bit stressed and... I get emotional. Sorry.”

“It's fine.” Mark hesitated, not knowing if he wanted to say this with the other lads sitting right there. They were caught up in conversation though and didn't seem to be listening. “Look, this morning...”

“No. You were right.” Jonah looked up at him. “I'm sorry. I was pressuring you and that wasn't fair. Maybe... we should just leave things for a bit.” He looked back down at his food, like he didn't want to see Mark's reaction. “I don't want to get you in trouble.”

“I'm sorry. I'd like to be friends.”

“Me too.” Fingers reached out across the table, brushing the tips of his for half a moment. “I rush things. I'm sorry.”

“It's not your fault.”

Jonah huffed out a breath, looking small and alone. Mark felt his heart ache.

“Yeah.” He said finally. “People used to say that a lot.”

 


	10. Chapter 10

The next few days passed without incident. They did the rest of the UK then headed back to London for the last push of promo before the single release. Looking back it had been sort of fun, if gruelling, and despite the difficulties between he and Mark it had been brilliant craic hanging out with the lads on the road. Not that he was complaining at all about spending a night in a proper bed again, a big queen sized thing that didn't move or sway and had soft, comfortable pillows.

He was woken from confused dreams by his phone ringing. Sat up in bed for a minute, confused, and then turned, groping around for it.

He heard Shane grumble, whispered an apology. It was morning, the sun coming into the room but still far too early to think about getting up after they'd gotten in so late last night. The alarm clock said seven-thirty. He lifted the phone to his ear, wondering who the hell was calling at this hour.

“Hi, this is Nicky.”

“Hi... Nicky?” It was a girls voice. He tried to place it but couldn't, stumbling towards the balcony to get out of Shane's hair. “This is Charlie. You left a message?”

“Oh, yeah!” He exclaimed. He hadn't expected a reply, honestly. It had been three days since he'd left the message and figured it had either been missed or ignored, felt weird about trying again when he knew it was just his own curiosity getting the better of him. “Hiya! Sorry, I just woke up.”

“Sorry, did I...?”

“It's fine. Sorry.” He yawned. “You got my message?”

“I did. Yeah.” She chuckled. “This is really weird, right? Emma told me she saw you.” She paused then, and he realised how weird this probably was, some stranger calling her who sort of knew some guy she hadn't seen in ages. “Is everything alright? She said she gave my number to Mark.”

“Oh, right...” He grimaced self-consciously. “Sorry. Erm...” He sighed. “Look, I don't even know why I called, really. I was just...” He chewed his lip, trying to think. “You knew Mark at camp or something?”

For a second he thought he'd been cut off. Then he realised she'd just gone silent, pressed the phone closer to his face to hear her better.

“Charlie?”

“Hi. Yeah.” She said awkwardly. “Camp. Um... no, well we tried to contact him a few weeks ago but we didn't hear from him. Sent it through the... you know, fan mail thing? We didn't know how else to get on to him.”

“We?” Nicky was starting to get quite familiar with the fanmail himself. Every time they checked in with Louis there seemed to be growing piles of it. He'd picked up his last lot about a week before they'd started on this tour, had gotten more teddy bears than he knew what to do with.

“Yeah. Like, a few of us who still keep in contact? He didn't come to the funeral. I wasn't sure if he got the message or not.”

“Funeral?”

“Yeah. Um.” She sighed, and her voice sounded a little shaky. “Just a friend from camp... passed away. Or... well, he hung himself, rather. Sorry. It's all a bit...” She sniffed and his heart dropped. “I know he's busy. He'd been trying to get onto Mark for a while and he hadn't replied so we thought maybe it wouldn't get through.”

“God, I'm so sorry.”

“He didn't say anything?”

“Not to me, no. God.” He bit his lip, trying to think. The last load of mail would have been picked up about three days before Mark had started crying that night. Was that what it had all been about? A friend of his had killed himself and he was trying to put on a brave face? Nicky didn't know what to say. “Jesus, I'm sorry.”

“It's okay. You didn't know.” She hesitated. He was about to try to figure out how to fill the silence when she spoke again. “If it's not about that... I'm sorry, what's this about? Is he alright?”

“He's... yeah. I guess.” He didn't know what to ask next. There wasn't an explanation that was going to make sense to anyone else, not without admitting some pretty private things about his... friend. Ex. Bandmate. Whatever the hell it was supposed to be. “This is going to sound like a really odd question...” He started. “But what was he like? At... at camp?”

“Mark? He was quiet.” That sounded like him. “Kept his head down, mostly.”

“It was like... bible camp, right?”

“Sort of.” She said hesitantly. “Look, I don't know what you want me to say but... I don't talk about it. It's not...” She sighed. “It's a lot of bad memories.”

“...what do you mean?” She didn't reply straight away. He rested his feet up on the balcony railing. The sun was up and it was glaring off the windows of the buildings opposite, the sounds of the morning commute floating up from below.

“I...” She sounded like she was about to start talking, then stopped again. He adjusted the phone against his ear. “I'm sorry. I can't.” He could hear tears in her voice and felt his stomach lurch. “ I have to go.”

“Charlie...”

“It was nice talking to you.”

“Just... wait. Please...” He urged. She was silent, but the call was still live. “Can you tell me anything? What the place was called or where it was, or...”

She didn't respond for a long time. He was about to cut off the call when she finally did.

“New Path.” She said, voice thick with tears. “It was called New Path.”

The call cut out.

He sat on the balcony for a long time, heart beating hard in his chest, his fingers still gripping the phone.

 

*

 

The next few days passed without too much incident. Mark drifted through, went to all his scheduled activities, sat through chapel twice a day. He went back to see Ben a few times too, had to watch the video over again. It changed each time. He could still hear the odd bubbling sound in his ear but Ben said that was probably psychosomatic, that some people noticed different reactions to it, that it had something to do with the flickering lights and images and the way the brain was responding to things it did and didn't like.

There were new clips in it this time. Quite graphic ones, actually, that made him feel a bit uncomfortable. People kissing, holding hands. Then a few sexual ones. Naked girls. Naked guys as well. A few that looked like they were from the sex ed class when they'd been talking about STDs, and through it all he could hear that high pitched whistle, though he seemed to hear it loudest when he was watching the one of the two men kissing each other.

Ben asked him which pictures he did and didn't like. He steered clear on commenting on the sexual ones. By the third day they seemed to be almost all sexual or of things he didn't like and he was hearing that noise constantly. It was horrible, made him flinch and get a headache afterwards. He didn't know what the point was, but Ben just repeated that it was important, that it was a positive thing that he was being repulsed by what was onscreen. It went unsaid that if he liked it there was probably something wrong with him.

Maybe there was. He'd tried to put that part of himself aside, but he was finding it harder and harder to stop thinking about Jonah. About... sex. It had been brief, but the taste of hot kisses, the feel of a hand on him was still burned into his memory. They hadn't spoken much in the last few days – Jonah had seemed quiet and withdrawn, which Mark supposed was probably a result of his issues – but it didn't change the fact that when they looked at each other he couldn't help but have those thoughts.

He brought it up with Ben after their session on Thursday.

He didn't know what made him say it, just knew that he couldn't get it out of his head. They were talking about it anyway, about how temptation didn't have to lead to sin, and suddenly he'd blurted out that he was trying his best to control his feelings but he didn't know how to get a handle on it any more.

A hand landed on his knee, and Ben smiled.

“Have you given in?”

“No.” Mark lied. He supposed he hadn't, not in the last few days. And if things kept going he wouldn't have to, not again. “I just... I don't want to feel that way.” He admitted. He didn't. It was too complicated, not with all the other stuff that seemed to be going on with Jonah. “I don't want to want boys.”

“That's excellent. The first step is admitting you have a problem.” Ben beamed. “We can help, you know. That's what we're here for. To make things clearer and get you back on the right path.” Mark nodded. “What do you want?”

“To...” He tried to think how to put it into words. “To be normal. To not be different. I want to have friends and make my parents proud of me again.”

“You don't think they are?”

“No.” He admitted. “Why would they send me here if they were?”

The other hand landed on his other knee, both of them squeezing. “Your parents sent you here because they  _ are _ proud of you.” Ben's voice was low and comforting. “They want you to be everything they know you can be. They just didn't know how to help you with that.” Mark nodded, feeling tears burn in the back of his eyes. “So they sent you to us. We've helped thousands of boys and girls before you, and we can help you too.”

“I don't want to be sick.” Like Jonah. His head finished the sentence his mouth couldn't say. “I got confused and I thought...” He shook his head. “I don't know what I thought.”  
  
“Well, let's get you back on the right track.” Ben stood up, gesturing, and Mark joined him, not sure what was going on. “We've talked about this before, but a lot of the time when boys have feelings like that it's because you're having trouble forming normal male relationships.” A hand fell to his shoulder. “Then when you do start to form meaningful relationships with other boys your head overcompensates and confuses that with lust or romance. It's extremely common.”

He supposed that made sense. He'd been nervous and a bit lost when he'd gotten here and Jonah had been nice to him. Wanted to spend time with him and actually seemed to like him as a person. He hadn't thought of him that way at first, but as they'd gotten closer...

Maybe that was it. God knew he'd always felt a bit on the outs, had trouble getting along with other kids his own age. He'd liked feeling like the most interesting person for once.

And Jonah was good at manipulating people. He'd seen that. Maybe they were right. Maybe this was just him getting confused and led astray.

“I'm going to hug you.”

He was pulled up short from his thoughts, and looked at Ben in surprise.

“Sorry, what?”

“I'm going to hug you.” Ben said again. “It's a common therapy technique. You'd be surprised by how quickly those feelings can go away when you take away the mystery of the male touch. It doesn't have to be sexual, not once you appreciate that we can separate our value from our sexuality. You have value.” A hand squeezed his shoulder. “And I appreciate that.”

“Erm... I'm not really a hugger.” He backed away a little bit. “Thanks, though.”

“You're frightened about the implications of touching another man. I understand that.” The hand squeezed. “But it's totally normal. We're getting too feminised, as a society, forming platonic bonds with women and not spending as much time bonding with men. We're finding that that's the number one reason for the sudden spike in the homosexual population. Because if women are your friends it takes away the sexual mystery surrounding them. It makes sense, doesn't it? When you realise that it's just a symptom of socialisation.”

“I... guess.” He bit his lip, trying to figure out what best to say in reply. He did have a few female friends, he supposed, and it wasn't like he was hugging his male friends all the time. Kian and Shane were always physical with each other, were hugging and clapping each other on the back, wrestling sometimes, but he'd never felt quite comfortable doing the same. Never felt close enough to them, like it was a natural thing.

“It's just a hug.” Ben smiled. “I used to have the same urges you did, and you'd be surprised how easy it is to overcome them when you realise what's wrong and set your mind to change. You do want to change, right?”

“...yeah.” He did. He didn't want to feel like this, confused and awkward, didn't want to be the one who was different. Who was letting people down. He didn't want to wake up with a hard-on and then have to sit at breakfast with a boy he wanted to reach out and touch, knowing it was wrong, knowing all he'd get was trouble and disappointment and a life that was bound to be less.

And fuck, it was just a hug.

It was weird. Ben smelled like hairgel and cologne. He was warm, though, and arms wrapped around him, squeezing. He squeezed back, realising it wasn't a quick one when Ben didn't pull away after a second. Instead a chin rested on his shoulder and the hand on his back stroked gently, patting. He closed his eyes, trying to focus enough to get through this.

“There we go.” He was let go of, finally, and Ben stood back to smile at him. “Not so bad, right?”  
  
“It was fine.” He shrugged. “I don't feel different.”

“It's an ongoing treatment.” A hand squeezed his shoulder. “Come back in tomorrow, alright? We can talk about it some more. Until then...” He reached over onto his desk, and grabbed a couple of rubber bands. “Hold out your hand.” He did, and the bands were stretched over his wrist. “Whenever you have a thought that's inappropriate, I want you to...” Fingers caught the bands, tugged, and he yelped as they snapped back against the inside of his wrist.

“Ow.”

“That's the idea.” He rubbed his stinging wrist. “It doesn't hurt too bad, but it'll give you a little shock. A reminder, if you like. Once you can start recognising the thoughts you shouldn't be having you can start to replace them with the right thoughts. For now, try just snapping the band whenever you have a bad thought and we can work on the rest once you get used to it.”

“Okay.” He nodded. They were pinching the hair on his arm a bit, but weren't uncomfortable. “Thanks.”

“No. Thank you. I'm so glad you're letting us help you.”

Ben leaned in, hugged him again. Mark tried not to pull away.

 

*

 

Nicky was watching TV when Mark knocked on the door.

Shane was out, had gone to do a bit of shopping with Kian an hour or so ago. Nicky hadn't felt like it, not after the rather odd conversation with Charlie that morning. She'd seemed nice enough, bright and bubbly, but the moment he'd mentioned the camp she'd shut down completely. He'd gotten the name of the place, had written it down on the bit of paper with her phone number so he wouldn't forget, but now he didn't know what exactly to do with it. Thought about finding a phone book so he could call them, but didn't know what to say if they picked up. He wondered if maybe he should look them up on the internet or something, but didn't know where to start with that and didn't have a computer handy. He thought about seeing if there was an internet cafe nearby, but didn't want to risk being recognised.

Mark looked fine when he came in and Nicky smiled, stepping out of his way.

“Morning.”

“Afternoon.” Nicky nodded. It was just after twelve, but it looked like Mark had only just woken up. They weren't due to be anywhere until three or four that afternoon, when they had a couple of tapings for some TV shows scheduled in. It had been good having a morning off. He didn't mind the work as such, but he could feel himself wearing thin over the last couple of weeks, what with everything going on, and he'd needed a bit of time to be by himself. “What's up?”

“Nothing. Just got bored.” Mark yawned, sinking down onto Shane's bed. “Thought I'd see if you were being interesting.”

“I'm always interesting.” He wanted to say something. Ask if Mark was okay about his friend, but didn't know how to start that conversation without admitting that he'd been prying. He'd looked a bit better the last few days, anyway, and Nicky didn't want to go upsetting him again. “I was just going to watch some TV or something, start getting dressed for the afternoon stuff.”

“Cool.” He flopped onto his back, and Nicky laughed, falling next to him. “Might fall asleep.”

“You're over here three minutes, and I'm already sending you to sleep?” Nicky raised an eyebrow. “Fuck you very much.”

“Shut up.” Mark chuckled, his eyes closed. “Didn't sleep well. I'm wrecked.”

“Still not sleeping right?” Nicky asked. “Thought that was just because of the bus.”

“Yeah. I don't know.” Mark shrugged. He cracked open an eye. “Can I ask you something?”  
  
“Course you can.”

“Can we room together again?” He bit his lip. “Sorry. I know we're not, like... together, but...” He exhaled slowly and Nicky felt his heart break a little bit for the lost look on his face. “I miss you.” He said quietly. “I liked rooming together.”

“I liked rooming with you too.” Nicky smiled, rolling onto his side to look at the boy next to him. “I didn't think you wanted me to.”

“No. I know. Just...” Mark sighed. “Sorry, it's too quiet and I'm not sleeping and... I tried having the TV on or something but...” He scrubbed the heels of his hands into his eyes. “Sorry. I'm... I'm really tired.” Nicky realised his bottom lip was trembling, and reached out to brush his knuckles over a pink cheek.

“Come here.” He murmured, pulling the obviously exhausted boy into a hug. A face buried itself in his neck, hands resting carefully on his back. “Poor thing.” He murmured. “Is there something wrong?”

“No. Just tired. Missing home.” Mark mumbled. “Sorry. You make me feel better, and I don't want to confuse that for something else, but... but I feel like you're my best friend and...” He sucked in a damp breath. “Sorry.”

“I'm your best friend?”

“Yeah.” Mark admitted. “Like, I can talk to you, I guess. You don't make me feel crazy.”

“Oh.” Nicky hesitated. If this was Mark talking to someone, then how closed off was he with everyone else? Shit, he'd known Kian and Shane for his whole life, and they barely seemed to have any inkling as to what was going on in his head. “Do other people make you feel crazy?”

“No. Sometimes. I never...” Hands drifted, then resettled a little higher on his back. “I just never feel like I'm quite clicking with other people, basically. I never have. I always have to try harder. Even in school I didn't have many friends. People can tell that I'm weird.”

“You're weird?”

“Yeah.”

“I've never thought so.”

“I know.” Mark nodded. “It's nice.”

Nicky felt a lump fill his throat, pressed his lips to a forehead wrinkled in earnest.

“You're totally fine.” He said quietly. “I like who you are. You're funny and sweet and kind to everyone, and I love listening to you talk. When you tell me things I can't wait to listen because it's all brilliant. I want know everything going on in here.” He rapped gently on Mark's temple with his knuckles. “And you're so talented. I think everything you are is amazing.”

“And I'm gay.” Mark said quietly.

“I honestly didn't even think of that.” Nicky shrugged. “It doesn't describe you. It's just a thing.” He stroked dark hair back from a concerned face. “You know what I don't like about being gay?” Mark shook his head. “It's other people. Not the bigots, those people can fuck off, but the way everyone seems to focus on it. Like it's something that matters. Like, if you are or not is going to change entirely who you are. It's just bloody sex at the end of the day. I'm not suddenly going to change my interests or my opinions or any of that just because I had sex with someone. It'd be like if suddenly Shane grew three feet taller just because people found out he likes girls with big boobs. It doesn't make any sense.”

“It does change who you are, though.” Mark argued. “People never liked me in school when they thought I was gay, and then when I started seeing girls I got a lot less shit. I had more friends.”

“Why did you want to be friends with people who didn't like you?” Nicky frowned. “And it didn't change who you are, you just got better at lying.”

“No, I just...” Mark pulled away slightly. “I had problems and I dealt with them. Once I knew what was wrong it wasn't so hard.”

“What problems?” Mark shrugged silently, leaning back into Nicky's chest. “If people are arseholes you fuck them off, you don't change yourself to make them feel better.”

“They're not arseholes. They could just tell that... that I was wrong. I saw some of them when I was home last week and they were all really nice.”

“They were nice because you're famous and have a bit of money.” Nicky retorted. “You know how many people have called me up in the last few months just to see how I am? People I never said two words to? I got a call from a guy who shoved my head in a toilet wanting to laugh about the old days, like it was all a joke, and then told me he was on hard times, bit strapped for cash, but it was good that I was so successful and god, weren't we just the best of friends?” He felt a muffled chuckle against his chest. “I hung up on him."

“But he treated you like that because...”

“He was an arsehole?” Nicky raised an eyebrow. “You...” He slid down so they were face-to-face. “You like boys, right?”

“I...” Mark closed his eyes, nodding, like he was trying to hide from his own admission. “I'm working on it.”

“Working on what?” Nicky rolled his eyes. “Do you know why you're amazing? Do you know how you got this far?” Mark shook his head. “Because you're _not_ the same as everybody else. If you were you'd never have done it. You sit and worry about something as tiny as who you're attracted to and at the end of the day it hasn't changed how brilliant you are. Because when you sing all I can hear is the thousands of little things that make you, you. If being gay was really holding you back, then how did you get this far?” He stroked hands through dark hair, shuffling in to kiss his forehead.

“It's part of you. If your life was perfect, if nothing had ever hurt you or let you down or made you feel sad, you never would have bothered to try. You prove people wrong. You aren't what they are, and that's why they're at home with their wives and kids and shitty jobs and never doing anything with their lives except what was already planned out. They didn't like you because you scared them. They tried to pull you down because if you succeed where they can't then what the hell does that make them?”

Mark was going pink. Nicky tugged him closer, feeling him tremble.

“You're gay. I'm gay. Shane's not. Kian's not. Bryan's not. Now tell me for a second how it's changed where we've ended up. We've all put out heart and soul into this. Bryan used to get teased about his weight, Shane about his height, Kian used to get the shit kicked out of him on a regular basis because he pissed people the fuck off. When it comes to getting bullied, they're just looking for an excuse to stop people noticing that you're better than them on a thousand other levels, so they pick a target they can hit. And honestly, when it comes to this I can guarantee you that the reason half of them are scared of us being gay is because they're scared of being gay themselves. And why shouldn't they be? Gay people get treated like dirt by people exactly like them and their friends.” He took a deep breath, realising he'd been ranting, couldn't tell if the heart he could feel hammering against his chest was his or Mark's.

“I don't have to have sex, though.”

“Of course you don't.” Nicky shrugged. “You don't have to do a lot of things. But if you want to, then why not?”

“Because if I get sick or someone finds out...”

“Why do you think you're going to get sick?” Mark shrugged. His eyes were still closed, like he was trying to remove himself from the conversation somehow. “I'm not sick. I just use a condom because I'm not an idiot. Bryan gets laid more than I do, so realistically he's got more chance of getting crotchburn than me.”

“Statistically...”

“Statistically, what? Have you ever taken drugs?”  
  
“What? No.” Mark's eyes opened, startled, and he shook his head. “Of course not.”

“Do you fuck about with strangers or prostitutes?”

“No. God, no.”

“Ever let someone shit in your mouth?”

“No!” Mark looked appalled, and Nicky found himself laughing.

“Then you're probably fine.” Nicky assured him. “Go get yourself tested, if you're worried. I do it every six months or so.”

Panic fluttered across Mark's face. He pulled away.

“What?”

“I get tested.” Nicky shrugged. “Better to be safe than sorry. I pee in the cup and a week later I get the all clear. It takes like five minutes. I'm due again soon, actually, if you want to go in with me? Maybe they'll give us a two for the price of one.” He joked. Mark looked pale.

“But if you don't have sex you won't have to...”  
  
“I like having sex.” He laughed. “Sex is fun. Things happen sometimes.”

“Did...” Mark swallowed. “Were you... while we were together?”

“No.” Nicky frowned. “Did you think I was?” Mark looked like he didn't know where to look. “I love you. I didn't want to sleep with other people.” He cupped a pale cheek. “Do you think I'm going to make you sick?”

“No.” Mark bit his lip. “You've been lucky, then.” He murmured. “I don't want you getting sick.”

“Luck's got nothing to do with it.” Nicky rolled his eyes. “I'm safe. I use protection, I don't go home with strangers when I'm drunk. I don't let people bleed on me or come in my mouth. I'm not stupid.”

“But eventually...” Mark still looked worried. “Like, it's inevitable, isn't it? If you keep doing it...”

Nicky pulled a face. “Why would you think that? It's not Russian Roulette. I'm not going to get a random visit from the herpes fairy, coming in the window while I'm asleep.” Mark almost laughed at that, he could swear it. “I'm fine. You're fine. I might get hurt playing football, but it doesn't mean I'm not going to play. I just put on pads.”

“I guess.” Mark shrugged. “I don't know.”

“Come here.” Nicky smiled, shuffling up so he could sit against the headboard. He felt a little ill, wondering where the hell Mark had been getting his information. Wondered if maybe it was a religious thing – scare the kids off sex, sort of thing. He'd gotten a bit of that in his school days, but his parents had always been pretty cool talking about it if he had questions and he'd never been embarrassed to ask. Mark sat up, looked like he was about to crawl over and snuggle up, but then appeared to change his mind, going to stand up.

“I'm erm... I'm gonna go have a shower and stuff, actually.” He said. “I'll see you in the van?”

“Okay.” Nicky stood up, following him to the door. Mark was out in a second later, but before it closed Nicky caught his gaze, saw eyes muddled and brows pinched in earnestly, a mouth pursed in thought.

 


	11. Chapter 11

The next few weeks passed fairly uneventfully, as far as Mark was concerned, anyway. Work-wise it was manic. If I Let You Go went number one straight out of the gate. Nicky couldn't believe it. Couldn't believe all the long days and hard work and sleepless nights had paid off. Even when Shane stood up and hugged him hard, when he saw Bryan dancing around the room. When they went out to celebrate that night and the next morning he had dozens of missed calls from every person he'd ever met.

He went back to rooming with Mark. It was fine. They slept in separate beds for the first few nights, but halfway through the fourth or fifth night he woke to find the younger boy tentatively sliding in with him, spooning himself carefully to Nicky's front like he was frightened he'd wake him up. Nicky didn't mention it, just tightened his arms around a solid waist, kissed the back of his neck, and went back to sleep. The next night the same thing happened again. By the next week they were in a Dublin hotel and Mark wasn't bothering to pretend to sleep in his own bed. It was nice, even if nothing was happening, waking up in the middle of the night to find a head on his chest, or arms around his waist.

“Nicky?” Mark whispered. He was almost asleep, but opened his eyes again to kiss the back of a dark head, tightening his grip on Mark's waist.

“Mmm?”

“How many people have you slept with?”

“Sorry?” He laughed, taken a little off-guard by the sudden line of enquiry. “What?”

“It's fine. Sorry.” He felt Mark settle again. “I didn't mean to wake you.” Nicky kissed the back of his neck, realised it was hot under his lips, and reached up to stroke a cheek, feeling the blush in it.

“Why do you ask?” He said finally, tugging Mark closer.

“No reason. Just... interested.” Mark mumbled. Nicky smiled, caught by the hesitant curiosity in the other boy's voice. They hadn't really talked about that since that weird, self-conscious conversation in Nicky and Shane's room, and he'd thought maybe it wouldn't be brought up again. He still didn't know how to read Mark, but he'd seemed okay since then and Nicky hadn't want to push. Now it appeared Mark was pushing back.

“Well...” Nicky thought it over. “There was Jack, when I was seventeen...”

“He was the one with long hair? The one when your mam's friend yelled at you?”  
  
“Yeah.” Nicky nodded, surprised Mark had remembered. “He was lovely. Then there was Harry. He was cool, but he only lasted a few weeks. Then George. I thought we'd make something of it for a while there. We were together almost a year, but then his family moved to Canada. I was devastated.”

“I'm sorry.”

“It's fine.” Nicky reached up, stroking soft hair back from his temple. “I get an email from him every now and then. He's well. Then... Angelo. God...” He sighed happily at the memory. “Angelo. You have no idea.” He heard Mark laugh.

“What was so great about him?”

“He was just... god, I can't even explain. The sex was...” He groaned theatrically, then snickered. “I swear to god he could slow down time. There was just no way his hands could be in that many places at once. It was ridiculous. We were in a hotel room together for three days and I don't think I put on clothes once. Never saw him again after that.”

“He left you?”

“I prefer to think he moved on, like some wandering cowboy of sex. Like, going from town to town, spreading orgasms into the wind.”

“Do you miss him?”

“Not really.” Nicky shrugged. “Then there was Levi, who was fine. Then Elliot. Then you."

“So... seven. In four years.”

“Sounds about right.” Nicky nodded. “Yeah.”

“Did you cheat on any of them?”

“No.” He kissed the back of a perfect ear. “Not that I had much time, with Angelo. But no.”

“Oh.” Mark went silent for a long time, and by the time he spoke Nicky was nodding off again, his hand making slow circles on Mark's hip, just enjoying the feel of him. “Nicky?”

“Yeah?”

“Why me?”

Nicky opened his eyes, feeling the rapid heartbeat against the hand he had pressed to Mark's chest, tugged him a little closer. It wasn't enough though, not with his face hidden, not with dark hair blocking his view, so he pulled gently on his hip until Mark rolled over to face him, eyes nervous.

“Hi.” He said softly, palming a perfect cheek. Mark pressed into it for a second, then appeared to catch himself, pulling away. “Why you, what?”

“Why do you want me?”

“Why shouldn't I?” He traced his thumb over a plump lower lip. “You're beautiful.”

“I'm not, though.” Mark said quietly, voice thick and wet. “I don't get it.” He closed his eyes, and Nicky took the opportunity to kiss delicate eyelids. “I'm so tired.” He whispered.

“You're perfect.” Nicky murmured. “I wish I could help.”

“No.” Mark shook his head. “You're trying to tell me what I want to hear. To make me...” He sobbed. “No.”

“I don't need to make you do anything.” Nicky pointed out. “Do you think I'm trying to like... make you gay or something? Why would I bother? I've can shag plenty of lads who are perfectly happy being gay. There's enough of us. We're not holding a membership drive or something.” Mark looked up at that, his eyes startled and confused. “I want you because I like you. If you don't want me back, then that's fine. I still like you. I'm not going to hold you down and make you do something, same as I wouldn't with Kian or Shane or Bryan or anyone else.” He chuckled, caught a hesitant gaze. “Believe it or not, it's a bit of a turn-on when boys fancy you back.”

Mark didn't reply. Nicky wrapped his arms around him, feeling him start to shake, and pulled him in tight.

“It's okay, love.” He murmured. “I've got you.” He stroked his hands down a long back, heart breaking at the tremble in it. “What happened to you?”

“Nothing. Nothing happened.” He heard a hitching, panicked sob. “No. I...” He pulled away. “I... I have to...” He was out of bed, then, disappearing into the bathroom. The door slammed, then locked. Nicky stared for a long moment, sat up in bed and frozen with shock.

“Mark?” When he went to press his ear to the door he could hear crying inside, almost inaudible mumbling. “Mark!”

“Go away!” Mark shouted. “Leave me alone!”

“No.” Nicky called back. “Open the door...” Mark didn't reply, but he could hear breathless muttering. He thought Mark was coming to the door, heard shuffling around, but then the light spilling out from underneath switched off and he heard what sounded like Mark sitting down on the floor. “Mark!” He hammered on the door, but then heard Mark's mumbling get louder, like he was being blocked out.

He backed away, staring at the door as he sat back down on the bed, feeling completely helpless.

He didn't know what to do. Wasn't sure if he should be calling someone. A doctor, maybe. Or the hotel to get the door open. Mark's parents. He couldn't think of anybody who wouldn't just make it worse, panic him. But at the same time he didn't really want Mark alone in the bathroom and so obviously distraught, not being sure what he might do.

Fuck.

He rummaged around, looking for something to open the door with. After a bit of fiddling with his keys he managed to slide one into the gap and pry the latch up, wincing as he heard it scraping the wood. Some jimmying and kicking later and he had it open, blinking in the dark of the room.

“Marky...” He fell to his knees. The younger boy was bent over the closed toilet, elbows rested on top while he prayed, mouth practically touching his own balled-up hands, clenched into a single fist. “Shit.” He murmured, trying to pull him away. He was elbowed off a second later, Mark's closed eyes screwing tighter. “Mark...” He didn't know what to say, just knew Mark was shaking, seemed to be beyond listening.

He stood back up, cupping his hand gently to the back of a dark head.

“Don't lock the door, okay?” He said finally, retreating back to the bedroom. He closed the door. Mark didn't even look up, didn't break stride. Nicky sat helplessly down on the bed, pulling his knees up to his chest and trying not to cry.

After a long time he realised he couldn't hear anything. He stood up, pressing his ear to the door, nudged it open a crack so as not to startle them.

Mark was asleep.

He pushed the door open, crouched down beside him in the dark. Mark was slumped in front of the toilet still, head pillowed in his arms on the lid, legs bent awkwardly underneath him on the tiles.

“Come on.” Nicky urged, tugging him slightly. Mark woke, sort of, just enough to let himself be guided back into the bedroom and onto the bed. Nicky slid in beside him, tugging up the blankets and pulling him into his chest, feeling the slight dampness of tears against his skin.

 

*

 

Mark hadn't realised how many bad thoughts he had a day until he put the rubber bands on. He'd never thought much about it, just let them drift on in the general swirl of his head, trying not to focus too much on the ones that were too confusing.

Getting up in the morning with a hard-on.

Snap.

Considering for half a moment sneaking a look at the other lads in the showers.

Snap.

Noticing that Jonah was still cute, no matter what else was going on with the two of them.

Snap.

By the time they were out of chapel his wrist felt raw and the others were giving him confused looks, like they were wondering why he kept playing with a rubber band. They went for a morning hike, just a short one, and he fell in behind Jonah. It was ten minutes before he realised he was staring at his arse. Not even intentionally, his eyes just seeming to fall there without him thinking.

Snap.

Snap. Snap. Snap.

“You okay?” Jonah said quietly. They were headed for lunch. Mark wasn't hungry. He hadn't really felt hungry at all the last week or so. The other boy was walking beside him, and for just half a second their hands touched.

Snap.

God, he really was fucked up, wasn't he? He'd never noticed before. Never realised how much it invaded his thoughts. Of course other people had noticed, how could they not? It was becoming a part of him, settled into his soul and eating slowly away at it. No wonder his parents had wanted him to get it sorted out, if it was this obvious. He could feel it getting in the way of other thoughts, twisting them up and turning them into something sick.

“I'm fine.” He mumbled. He got a tray of food and sat down, looking into it while the others talked around him, barely listening to what they were saying, just trying to focus on not thinking about...

That afternoon Ben asked how he was going. Mark broke down, the terror and worry from the day finally catching up until he was sobbing in the chair, the glass of water left untouched on the desk. Ben hugged him, told him this was the first step and that he could help. Mark hugged back, feeling totally lost.

The next day seemed to be worse. He hadn't slept well. Couldn't, not when his thoughts seemed to be racing all the time. He went to see Ben again that afternoon, sat in the chair while the video played. It was almost all sexual now, the things that weighed on his thoughts flickering past on the screen. Men kissing. Touching. Once it was done his head was ringing with pain and his wrist felt ready to bleed. They sat on the floor afterwards while he cried, Ben's arms around him.

By the time he stopped they'd been sat there for almost half an hour, arms rocking him carefully. Promises that it was all going to be okay. He resolved to try harder the next day and Ben told him that every time he had a bad thought he was to replace it with something disgusting or awful. To make it worse in his head until his mind rejected it. He nodded and said he would try.

“Mark.” Jonah whispered that night as he was going to sleep. Mark looked up as a familiar head peered over the side, so similar to only last week when Jonah had told him to come up and check out his stash of snacks. And he had, and then...

Snap.

A bowl of writhing maggots.

He felt his stomach lurch.

“What?”

“You okay?”

“Yeah.” He closed his eyes, hoping if he couldn't see Jonah that it would help. “Sleeping.”

“Sorry.” But Jonah didn't go away, was still looking at him when Mark opened his eyes again. “Are we not friends any more?”

“I...” He didn't know what to say. How to admit to wanting that again, that thing where they'd been all over each other, hands everywhere, wrapped around him while he felt so good and...

Snap.

His dog, getting hit by a car.

“We're still friends.” He said bluntly, trying to focus. “I'm tired.”

“You haven't spoken to me in days.” Jonah bit his lip. “If I did something wrong, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to.”

“You haven't.” He felt awful now. “I'm just... I'm tired and homesick. I'm sorry. It isn't you.”

“Oh.” Jonah pursed his lips, looking concerned. “I'm homesick too.” He admitted. “I miss my mum. And my sisters.”

“Yeah.” Mark breathed. “I just want to talk to them, you know? Ask how they are. I haven't gone this long without talking to them in...” Ever. It had never been this long. Only two weeks in and he still had two to go. “I want my own bed.”

“I know. I miss my room. The noises here are all wrong, and the shadows and... I'm used to hearing cars and things going past. It's too quiet.”

“It's always quiet where I live.” Mark said hesitantly, not sure why he was continuing to talk when he knew this was a slippery slope. Jonah looked so mournful, though, a little lost, and he knew what that felt like. “You'd hear the crickets, maybe a cow or sheep occasionally, but it was always quiet. We were far enough away that when it was clear you'd see stars for ages.” He smiled, remembering. “Like, so many of them you'd feel tiny.”

“That sounds nice.” Jonah murmured. “It sounds peaceful.”

“It was.” He folded his hands behind his head, wishing he could see something other than the bottom of the bunk above. “My parents let me go camping sometimes. I'd go out into the field behind our house and put up this little pup tent and just lay on the grass for hours. Sometimes I'd listen to music, but mostly I'd just lay there. It was quiet.”

“I could use a bit of quiet.” Jonah breathed. “It's always noisy in my head.”

“I know what you mean.” He agreed, looking down at the rubber band. God, to feel like that all the time, have thousands of thoughts you couldn't control... He felt a stab of empathy. “It's not the same here. It always feels like someone's watching me. I can't just... be.”

“Yeah.” The boy above him rolled back onto his bunk, disappearing. “I always want to be someone else, you know? I want to change. But then I think it would be nice, just for a minute, to be me. Like, who I'm supposed to be, instead of all the anger and sadness and other stuff. Clear out all the other voices and be in there by myself.”

Mark nodded, knowing exactly how he felt. To just be the thing you thought of yourself as. Not something else, not someone struggling with temptation and feelings you couldn't control and what other people thought of you. Take away all the mess and just...

He looked down at the rubber band, at the red raw skin beneath it.

He could be that person. He wanted to be that person.

He just had to keep trying.

 

*

 

They didn't speak the next morning. Or at least Mark didn't. Nicky tried. Not to pry, but just basic things. How'd you sleep? Do you want breakfast? Mark shook his head, grunted something that wasn't a reply, and went to shower.

It was the last day of work for a week. They drifted through. Mark didn't really speak to anyone, though he smiled through the TV interviews, played along like everything was normal. Nicky saw Kian trying to talk to him, but Mark just avoided it until everyone stopped bothering and went off to do other things. Nicky didn't want to stop bothering. Not when he could see unshed tears hiding in Mark's eyes.

They did a small performance for a TV taping and halfway through someone must have done something wrong at the sound desk because there was a sudden high-pitched whistle of feedback blasting through their headphones. Kian yelped. Nicky did too, yanking off his headphones when he felt it go right for his eardrums, like a silent spear. They got back on track quickly, but not before Mark had to excuse himself for the bathroom, dashing off stage like he was on fire.

They split up at the hotel. The Sligo boys were headed west, and Nicky hugged them quickly before they piled into Shane's car, felt Mark stiff and resisting in his arms. Then they were gone, disappeared down the road while Nicky stood helplessly in front of the hotel.

Bryan gave him a ride back to his parents' house. It was nice to be home. His suitcase was dumped on the bed and abandoned while he went to have lunch in his own kitchen with his own family, laughing and catching up and telling stories about Asia and Australia and all the other places he'd been to in the last few months. That night he fell into bed, tired and happy.

When he woke the next morning the house was quiet. He'd always been an early riser – football had beaten that particular inconvenience into him – and for a second he couldn't believe that it was five-thirty in the morning and he didn't have to be somewhere. No shoots, no interviews, no performances. He had a quick shower and wandered down to watch TV, collapsing onto the couch and flicking on a morning show.

He had been sat there about ten minutes when his eye caught the computer. It was new, hadn't been there last time he'd been home, but his brother had been excited about it yesterday, talking about the video games he'd gotten, how he'd almost beaten Tomb Raider. Before Nicky knew it he was crossing the room and switching it on.

He found the search engine within a minute and leaned forward to use the keyboard, beginning to type.

_New Path_

It took a bit of clicking, but after a few minutes he found a website. It looked okay. A summer camp for troubled kids. Emotional healing. Trained professionals. He kept clicking, finding images of smiling kids clustered around canoes or sitting in circles around a campfire. Weekend retreat programmes for adults wanting to rediscover themselves.

_...resolving unwanted sexual attraction..._

He clicked on the header that said 'testimonies', and leaned forward to read.

“Fuck.” He sat back, putting a hand over his mouth. He'd been reading almost an hour, had felt the rising gorge in the back of his throat as he went on, realised exactly what this was. The words were fancy and positive, but he could see the intent hiding behind them. Intensive therapy. Healing disturbing urges. Dangerous lifestyle. Harmful symptoms.

He clicked back to the search engine when he was done, and searched again, looking for something else, anything to shed light on what he'd just read. It took him another ten minutes but he eventually found a news article, just a tiny one from over a year ago

_New Path, a camp devoted to 'curing' homosexuality, is once again fielding allegations of abuse. Two previous attendees, both aged sixteen during their time there, have come forward in the last six months with reports that they were forced to perform manual labour, shown pornography, and touched inappropriately by staff members._

_A spokesperson for the camp has stated that these allegations are false, and are frivolous attempts by the Atheist lobby to discredit their work. “We have had no complaints come to our attention,” he said. “All of our techniques are monitored closely and have been extremely successful in providing participants with the tools to create a much more fulfilling and healthy lifestyle.”_

_New Path has been the subject of controversy in the past, with specialists calling claims of their program's success unfounded and questionable._

“Fuck.” He whispered again. He didn't know what to think. Sort of wanted to throw up. Touched inappropriately. Abuse. God, he didn't even know where to start with processing that.

There was noise upstairs and he flinched when he heard footsteps on the stairs, had just finished clearing the internet history when Adam walked into the room, rubbing his eyes sleepily.

“Whatcha doing?”

“Just mucking around.” He clicked off the browser, pushing back slightly from the desk. Forced his face into a smile. “You want to make some breakfast before mam and dad wake up?”

They went to the kitchen, Adam skipping around in his pyjamas, sorting out toast while Nicky got some eggs and bacon on the stove. He hugged his brother as he went past, got a hug back.

_Abuse. Intensive therapy. Harmful._

Nicky felt a leaden weight sink to the bottom of his stomach and stay there.

 


	12. Chapter 12

They were going to have a dance at the end of the week. It was announced at breakfast. Boy-girl, obviously, and all the boys were required to ask a girl of their choosing. They all froze, eyes drifting to Charlie, who sat open-mouthed and on the spot, a blush rising high in her cheeks.

“Oh no.” She raised her hands in defence.

“Well, you have to go with someone.” Sam shrugged. “It's only like five days away."

“I'd prefer not to.” She sighed. “God...” She looked down at herself, at the knee-length skirt. She was wearing make-up again, all the girls were. Some of them looked better than others, and Mark was trying to think of them that way, at least to fill his thoughts with something that wasn't going to make his wrist hurt. “I'll think about it, okay?”

They had another group exercise that morning. Sat in a circle while Lachlan directed them to hug each other. Mark sort of knew the motivation behind this one already and at least had gotten past his initial discomfort. There was a lot of awkward giggling, though. He ended up sat on the floor while Jonah settled behind him, thighs cradling his hips and arms around his waist. He wriggled, trying to get more comfortable, and realised with a start that he could feel a stiffening bulge settling to the small of his back.

“Sorry.” Jonah murmured.

Mark bit his lip, trying to think past it. Trying not to respond the way his body wanted to, but feeling it anyway. That thrill. The rush of heat. Tried not to think of wrapping his fingers around it and feeling slick release flooding his hand. He could feel breath on the back of his neck, and when he turned to look Jonah looked away, his face carefully blank.

“Really sorry.” Jonah mumbled when he pulled away. He was a little flushed. Mark nodded, scratching his arm awkwardly when they went to stand.

He went to see Ben afterwards. Talked about how he'd had inappropriate feelings during the exercise but hadn't laid the blame on Jonah. Sure, Jonah had gotten hard, but Mark had responded. Jonah was sick. Mark didn't have to join him in that, and he was determined not to. Ben hugged him, stroking his back while he tried to make this feel natural, feeling stiff and uncomfortable while hands drifted over him.

But it was working. He knew it was. Ben had told him it was fine not to have feelings about girls yet. As long as he could work through his feelings about boys first it would come naturally, like cleaning out all the weeds in his head would make room for something to grow again, to fill the space left behind. He was starting to recognise what he was doing, was able to think of other things before he got swept up. His wrist wasn't nearly as sore now and his appetite was starting to come back, though he still wasn't sleeping that well.

Charlie wasn't at dinner that night. Mark looked around, trying to spot her, but she'd disappeared. None of the others seemed to know where she was either, and when he asked a couple of the girls they shrugged, said they didn't really talk to her and wouldn't have a clue. He asked one of the counsellors, who checked her clipboard and said Charlie was on cleaning duty.

He wondered what she'd done, and sure enough when he got outside she was bent over in front of the chapel, tears streaming down her face while a red whistle stood over her with his arms crossed, watching. He wanted to go over, wanted to help, but didn't want to end up doing the same. He heard Sam make a noise of disapproval but he didn't say anything either. None of them did.

She didn't come to campfire that night. The next morning she wasn't at breakfast. By the time he saw her again he'd just come back from a really awkward trust exercise session in the hall, falling backwards into other boys' arms and doing weird team-building activities that mostly seemed to involve hugging and staring at each other to take away the sexual mystique. He'd avoided pairing with Jonah for that, and the younger boy had looked hurt when he'd sat down with Sam instead. Mark didn't know what to say. Didn't know how to admit that when it came to Jonah he didn't know how to control his feelings. With Sam it was easier, though the other boy had an uncomfortable scowl on his own face through the whole thing.

The library was quiet. There wasn't a great selection – it was just a small room off the side of the main office building, with a few haphazards shelves and two uncomfortable-looking wooden chairs. He'd just popped in to see if he could find something to read for the half hour break before chapel and she was curled up on the floor in the corner, almost hidden behind a bookshelf.

She looked up, startled, and he smiled.

“What you reading?”

“Whatever this is.” She lifted the book enough that he could see the cover. It looked like a standard teen romance sort of thing, and she turned back to look at it without further comment.

“You okay?”

“I'm fine.” She didn't lift her gaze from the page.

“I saw you last night. Did you get in trouble?”

“Apparently.” The book was raised a little higher. “I don't want to talk about it.”

“Okay.” He shifted awkwardly, then went to look at the books in the closest shelf. They all seemed boring. A lot of reference books, a ton of romances. Not the saucy bodice-rippers either. When he looked at the back they all seemed to be about true love and marriage and being together under the eyes of God. Cautionary tales about love and forgiveness and temptation and finding your way back.

He didn't find anything interesting and headed back out after a few minutes. He went to chapel. Tried to listen. Tried to connect with what the chaplain was saying, but his mind kept drifting. That afternoon was supposed to be a hike, but halfway through the sermon there was a sudden roll of thunder, a metallic smell in the air. When they came out it was pissing down.

They ended up inside. Ben took over the session this time, asking the boys to pair off into groups of three. Mark ended up with Gabriel and Sam. Two of them were asked to stand next to each other to form a wall while the third tried to push them back to the other end of the room.

“Sometimes challenges can seem insurmountable.” Ben said. “You'll think they're too big, too strong, but you'll be surprised by how much you can do when you really put your mind to it. Imagine your partners are your worries, your urges. The part of yourself that gets in your way. Push yourself out the other side and you'll see how easy it is.”

He wasn't imagining much of anything. It was hard, and by the end all three of them were sweating, his mind taken up with the sheer effort and determination of pushing while the other two pushed back, his arms each around one of them like a football tackle, feet planted and shoulders down. It was exhausting, but when he was done he felt good, like a sense of accomplishment. Gabriel seemed to have the hardest time of it and when he was done he looked near tears, his face red and chest heaving. Sam just put his head down and pushed. It was slow going but he didn't seem upset or defeated, just kept going until they eventually stumbled back over the line.

Mark looked over. Jonah was with two boys from one of the other cabins. He'd looked so hurt when they'd grouped off without him, but Mark didn't know what to do about it, was perversely glad he'd been chosen. It hadn't been him who had left him out – he'd gotten the feeling that Gabriel was pulling away from him slightly, had been in the last few days since the scene in sex ed, and Sam didn't really seem to care either way.

He was fighting. Charging at the two boys as hard as he could, but he was slipping, being pushed back. Mark heard him shout, an angry, grunting growl when he bore down again, feet sliding on the boards.

He did it, finally, but Mark could see the other two slacking off a bit, letting him win. When they went to dinner there were tears standing in Jonah's eyes.

 

*

 

Nicky didn't know what he was doing, exactly. He was supposed to be at home, spending time with his family. And he had been. The first week had been lovely, going to drop his brother off at school, hanging out with his dad. He'd gone to do groceries with his mam and she'd looked totally baffled when a group of excited girls had come up holding pens and wanting photos. He'd happily posed, signed a few things, and thanked them for their support. When he went back to pushing the cart his mam was shaking his head like she couldn't figure out what had just happened, though a few minutes later she was laughing and asking if that happened all the time.

He'd said yeah, it was happening more lately. She chuckled, gave him a proud smile, and then asked what flavour of crisps he wanted. It was nice. It was home.

So why the hell he was on a plane to Blackpool he didn't bloody know.

He'd had another look at the website a couple of times, at night when everyone else was asleep. He suspected he knew the thing back to front by now, which didn't explain why he was doing this. What the hell he thought he was going to achieve. But those phrases had weighed on his mind. The ones that settled wrong in the back of his head, mingling with the memories of Mark's tears, the panicked trembling and muttered prayers.

He'd sent Mark a text. Just a little one.  _ How's your holiday? _

He hadn't gotten a reply.

At first he'd thought he might drive up to Sligo. It was only a few hours. But Mark wouldn't thank him if it looked like he was being checked on, and Nicky didn't want to play the overbearing ex.

Obviously this was so much more sane.

It was a quick journey. He got a cheap ticket, sidled into economy class with just a carry-on. He didn't intend to stay – just drive over, maybe have a peek around if he could, and get back on a plane that evening. He didn't know what he expected to find.

He rented a car. It was over two hours later that he found the place. It had been near impossible to find the address – there hadn't been anything on the website other than a PO Box, and when he'd attempted to send an email through the contacts page he hadn't gotten a reply. In the end he'd manage to get a response in a conservative chat room when pretending that he was a concerned father wanting to check the place out, and even then it had been hard going. Nobody seemed to know about it, and everyone who did wanted to pretend it didn't exist.

He parked the car a while up the road and walked the last ten minutes, found himself in front of a rusted gate that looked more like a service track, though when he poked a little deeper he found a second gate, a proper blacktop road. The woods were hemming it on either side, and he could see a tall fence stretching around the perimeter.

There was nobody about. The place looked deserted and the gate was padlocked, so after a minute's dithering he started to edge around the fence, looking for another way in.

He kept following it, working his way around the outside. It seemed to stretch on for ages, but soon he found himself stumbling across a few smaller buildings, shacks really. Small square cubicles that looked about the size of a large portaloo with only the one door and a small window set high into one wall. He jumped, trying to look in, but it was impossible and there was nothing to climb or stand on. There were about six or seven all up, the doors all with large rusty padlocks swinging from the handles.

There was a path, barely, and he began to follow it, hearing the river babbling somewhere on his left, pushing leaves out of the way until he found himself at another gate, one small enough that he could hoist himself over.

It looked like a regular enough summer camp. The cabins were on the far side, doors all painted different colours. A few large buildings, and when he sidled quietly over to look he realised one was a dining room and kitchen, another an empty hall. There was a small white-brick chapel in the corner, all of the buildings circling a large fire-pit in the centre. A rack of canoes stood near the gate, a tarp over the top to keep them out of the elements.

He worked his way around quietly. There was nobody here, not as far as he could tell, though the prickling sense of unease was still tugging at his throat, swirling in the base of his spine. He tried to imagine Mark here, younger and a bit chubbier, with his hair still all floppy. Sitting at a campfire, eating in the hall over there. He found himself smiling, wondering what Mark had been like. Whether he'd always been so sweet and shy or whether he'd been different. Whether he'd been less frightened, less self-conscious. Whether he'd laughed more.

A bit of poking around and he found a squat building that looked like an office building of some sort. The front door was unlocked, the knob turning easily in his hand. He chewed his lip nervously, wondering if that meant there was someone about after all, but a quick glance in the windows didn't turn anything up so he let himself inside, already trying to figure out a cover story in case he was caught.

There were rows of closed doors. The first one he let himself into was a small library with four or five short bookshelves and a couple of wooden chairs. The next was a small room with a computer, a couple of comfortable chairs, and a few posters on the walls, mostly of the inspirational sort. The next two were the same. He let himself in to the third, glancing nervously about, and began to hesitantly slide open a couple of the drawers in the filing cabinet, looking for some sort of clue.

There was nothing, so he switched on the computer, settling down into one of the chairs. The desktop was pretty sparse, but after a bit of clicking he found a folder that seemed to be full of names. He scrolled through, looking for Mark's.

He found it. Clicked it open. There was a picture of him on the first page of the document, and Nicky found himself smiling. He looked lovely, a bright, awkward teenager with chubby cheeks and a goofy grin, all teeth. Adorable and clumsy, perfectly imperfect without the tailored clothes and styled hair. The Mark Nicky had fallen in love with when they'd first met, watching while he'd sung Father and Son, Mark sat behind the desk wearing a t-shirt and jeans, looking like he didn't quite know how he'd ended up here either.

He hit print, not wanting to overstay and run the risk of a security guard or caretaker or someone finding him. It was done a few minutes later and he shoved it in his backpack, switching off the computer and beginning to make his exit.

He was halfway back to the gate when he heard people talking.

There was nowhere to hide, and by the time he turned around they were coming around the corner, two men. One with short slicked-back greying hair and a blue polo shirt, the other in a red polo with a whistle around his neck. They were laughing, and he thought about freezing and hoping they wouldn't notice him, but there was no way.

“Hi!” He called out. The both looked up in surprise, and he started jogging over, trying to look earnest. “Sorry. My car broke down up the road. I've been walking ages – do you guys have a phone or something?”

“This is private property.” The one in blue said.

“I know. I'm sorry. I just saw the gate and I thought...” He stopped, scratching his hair abashedly. “I got a bit turned around. I was looking for the caravan park, but I think I might have taken the wrong road somewhere...” He fished in the pocket of his bag for the map. “I got off the motorway here...” He unfolded it, pointing.

“Oh... no, you should have gone left here...” The guy in red was pointing. “Then down there. There's signs on the road.”

“You know, I almost did that, and then I thought...” He laughed, rolling his eyes. “I'm dreadful at maps. Thanks.” He folded it back up, stuffing it in his pocket. “Can I borrow a phone or something? I've got no signal out here. I just want to call roadside assist.” The guy in red was already nodding but the guy in blue looked suspicious, his eyes cold and hard when they looked at Nicky.

“Follow me.” He said finally. Nicky did.

They went back into the office building he'd just left, and Nicky picked up the phone, pretending to dial and have a conversation with the mechanics. He thanked the dial tone, then hung up, smiling gratefully.

“Thanks lads.” He nodded, looking around. “This a camp or something?” They didn't seem all that inclined to answer, so he shrugged, heading back towards the door. They walked him off the premises, leaving him waving brightly as they disappeared back inside, thanking them for their help.

He stopped at a roadside cafe for lunch, fumbled out the pages he'd managed to print. There were only about six of them. The first few seemed standard. Name, age, school, parents contact details. Same sex attraction, where he was listed as  _ suspected, confirmed by counsellor.  _ Diagnosis. Treatment.

The pie he'd ordered went untouched, his tea going cold on the table while he pored over every page with horrified fascination. He didn't understand half the words. Aversion therapy. Audiovisual conditioning. Behavioural adjustment. Socialisation anxiety. Receptive to re-orientation. Difficulty expressing complex emotions. Intensive self-reflection process. It seemed to cut off, as though the last few pages were missing, but there was enough here to make Nicky want to cry. It was hours before he put it aside, ordered another cup of tea, and sat staring at the bundle of paper, wishing he could dive in and pull Mark out before all of this had happened.

He drank half his tea, had the pie boxed up to go, and headed back toward the airport.

 

*

 

Charlie ended up choosing Jonah for her date, in the end. Mark wasn't sure why – he thought she'd pick Sam for sure, but he supposed she didn't want him to think she was interested in him back and she and Jonah had been talking a lot the last few days, seemed to be hanging out more often. He was sort of glad. He hadn't known how to talk to Jonah, felt like anything he said would come of as trying too hard. The other part of him was glad he had someone else to talk to so he wouldn't be tempted to go over there, push him against the wall, and kiss him hard.

Snap.

He awkwardly asked a girl named Karen if she'd like to go to the dance and she said yes, but didn't look all that excited about it. She was pretty, he supposed. A bit shorter than him but with a sort of friendly country feel to her that was all pleases, thank yous and excuse mes. They didn't talk after that, just agreed to see each other there, and he slumped back to their table, poking at the pasta in front of him.

He'd lost weight already. Knew he had. A combination of lack of sleep, lack of appetite, and constant twisting anxiety in his stomach and he barely felt like he'd eaten, felt thin and tired. He didn't know if he felt good about that or not. He just felt empty. Exhausted and distant, even from his own thoughts, which was probably the point.

They'd all stopped talking to each other, somewhere along the line. The first few days it had been all conversation, but now it felt like they were busy hiding things from each other, trying to keep their heads down and focus on where they were supposed to be going. He didn't think he'd spoken to Gabriel properly since that day they'd gone canoeing, and he'd been in the guy's presence for two weeks. It was like they were all worried about being gay by association.

Sam had been quiet too. Looked like he was constantly turning things over in his head. He participated in the group activities, told stories about why he hated his father but didn't seem all that engaged, like he was playing a part. He started hanging out with Charlie and Jonah, which made sense, and Mark went back to being by himself, feeling the solitude more than he ever had before, not sure if it was a good thing or not. Hating being by himself with his thoughts. Liked getting time by himself to think. To block out all the shit and try to drift, try to find some place in his own head where he felt okay. Felt safe. Felt like himself.

He woke on the morning of the dance feeling okay. His dreams had been empty and quiet and he'd woken early, sat by the window to watch the sunrise, knowing he wasn't allowed to leave the cabin yet but still able to see pink and orange swelling through the trees, listening to the first noises of the counsellors moving around.

“Morning.”

He looked up to see Jonah looking over at him, the blankets still tucked up to his neck and eyes barely open.

“Hey.” He whispered.

“What you doing?”

“Nothing.” He knelt down, resting his elbows on the edge of the window so he could see more of the sky. “Looking.”

“Oh.” There was a thump of feet, then Jonah was kneeling next to him. He shifted aside to make room. “Pretty.”

“Yeah.” He sighed. A hand landed on his shoulder and he shook it off, closing his eyes against the sudden rush of confusion. “Don't.”

“Sorry.” Jonah hesitated. “I still fancy you.” He said finally.

“I still fancy you too.” Mark admitted. “I don't want to. I'm trying to...” He inhaled slowly, trying to push back the tears. “It was a mistake. I want to take it back.”

“I don't.” He didn't want to look over, didn't want to see the hurt and the tears he could hear in that voice. He shook his head, watching the first rays of sunlight lance through the trees blocking the view. “I want you.”

“No.” Mark shook his head. “I can't. I have to... to...” He felt tears spring to his eyes. “I'm sorry.”

“Yeah.” Jonah whispered. He pushed away, stood up. “I'm going back to bed. Don't...” He shook his head. “Don't talk to me, okay?”

“Jonah...”

“Don't.” He was already climbing the ladder, his voice brittle and broken. “I can't.”

“It's not you.”

“In my experience it generally is.” The blankets pulled up, hiding him. Mark bit his lip, wanting to cry. Wanting not to feel this bad about someone he wasn't supposed to be attracted to. Wasn't supposed to...

“It's not your fault. You're sick. I am...”

But Jonah didn't reply. Just lay there until the bell rang for wake-up and Mark went to have a shower, pressing his face to the cold tiles and trying to clear his head.

 

*

 

It felt like holding his breath. Sitting at the airport and waiting to see Mark again. He'd gone over the printouts a hundred, a thousand times and felt somehow that he'd gotten to know Mark less, seen nothing but who people were trying to make him, the thoughts they'd tried to plant in his head. Sat staring at that photo on the first page and not been able to match the two in his head, not been able to believe that anyone could think there was something wrong with this sweet, smiling boy.

He still didn't know what had happened to him, not really. Knew what was written on the pages. Knew the buzz words and the technical jargon but had no idea what any of it meant. Wished he had a transcript or something, some insight or explanation that wasn't a checklist of what people who couldn't have known Mark wanted him to be.

The others were running late, had been stuck in traffic on the way back from Sligo and dashed into the airport just as the gate was about to close. They were on the plane a second later, piling into seats and Nicky just trying to catch a proper glimpse of Mark when the younger boy ended up sitting next to Bryan, the two of them laughing and talking like nothing was wrong.

The flight was interminable. It only lasted a few hours but all Nicky wanted to do was lean over, tap Mark gently on the shoulder and tell him it was okay. That he was perfect. That the rest could sod off. Find the cracks he'd tried to cover up and fill them with something that fit.

They got off, got into a van in Stockholm and were at the hotel before ten p.m. Bryan wanted to go for drinks. The others did too. So off they went, Nicky falling in behind Mark as they stumbled down the street from bar to bar, all drunk and happy while Nicky tried to smile, tried to stop himself staring into blue eyes that seemed cheerful on the surface, wanting to climb inside and dig deeper, find the place where Mark was hurt.

By the time they made it back to the hotel Nicky was exhausted. Climbed into one of the beds and stayed sitting up so he wouldn't fall asleep, waiting while the younger boy went to the bathroom, had a quick shower and came back. Climbed into the other bed. Nicky opened his mouth, not sure what to say, how to protest. The blankets were pulled up, Mark disappearing, and Nicky didn't know what to do. Wanted to go over and wrap around him. Couldn't. Not with Mark blocking him out.

The next morning he woke up late to find Mark already in the shower. When he came out he was dressed and ready, smiled at Nicky and said he'd see him at breakfast. Nicky wanted to put a hand on his shoulder. Tell him to wait. Tell him to stay and talk. But Mark was already gone.

The day crawled. Mark spoke to the others at the shoots, the interviews. Spoke to Nicky, in a way. But it was insincere and guarded, like he was acting out a play. Nicky touched his shoulder, tried to say something that was more meaningful than commenting on their clothes. Mark pulled away, went to the bathroom. Came back and went to sit with Kian.

He went to bed early. Nicky stayed sitting at the table, staring into a plate of food he couldn't make himself eat.

“Nicky?”

He looked up, caught kind brown eyes, earnest blue ones. Bryan was off in the bathroom, but he'd barely noticed him going. Couldn't think of anything but  _ aversion  _ and  _ behavioural  _ and  _ abuse _ .

“Sorry lads.” He made himself smile. “Daydreaming.”

“Yeah. We noticed.” Shane leaned forward a little. “What's wrong with you and Mark?”

“Nothing.” He said. “Just tired.” They didn't believe him. Kian raised an eyebrow. Shane pursed his lips. “Why? Is there something up with Mark?”

“I don't know.” Shane said. “He barely spoke on the trip, and Bryan said you two had broken up.”

“Yeah.” Nicky nodded, resigned. He couldn't expect Bryan to keep that secret, he supposed, especially when he'd never said it was a secret anyway. It affected the band, not just the two of them. “Sorry. It's been a hard couple of weeks. We won't let it affect...”

“No. Of course not.” A hand landed on his, squeezing. Kian grimaced sympathetically and Nicky attempted a grateful smile back. “We tried to talk to Mark about it but he just laughed and said he didn't know what the hell we were talking about.”

“Yeah. That sounds like him.” Was that it? Mark thought they'd been caught out and was trying to be nonchalant about it? Nicky didn't know. He never bloody knew, like Mark was in an entirely different language with the letters all jumbled up. “I...” He wanted to ask something, didn't know where to start. “I'm worried about him.” He said finally. “He won't talk to me and he keeps shutting me out. I don't know...” He wanted to cry, didn't want to start doing it at the table. “I'm sorry.” He said finally. “I don't know what to say.”

“Can we do anything?”

“I don't know. I don't know what's wrong.” He admitted. “He broke up with me, more or less, so I feel like I should be the one not talking to him, but...” He shook his head. “I don't bloody know.”

“He broke up with you?” Kian looked surprised. “Why?”

“It's complicated.” Nicky shrugged. “It's not really up to me to say. I...” He poked at his plate. He wasn't bloody hungry. Hadn't been in days, though he felt painfully empty. “I'll talk to him.”

“Do you want me to?” Shane asked. Nicky shook his head.

“He wouldn't say anything.” He put down his fork, going to stand up. Then hesitated. “Can I ask something?” They both nodded. “What was Mark like? When he was younger? Like... fifteen, sixteen?”

“Er... I don't know.” Kian shrugged. “Quiet. He got... serious. When he got older. Like, he was never mad or anything, but when we first met he was a bit silly, maybe a bit immature. That was probably why he got picked on.”

“Picked on?”

“Yeah. Like crazy. You know, it's always that prey on the weak thing. He was younger, he was kind of chubby, he was always singing and stuff. People called him names a lot. You know...” He blushed a little bit, looking at Nicky apologetically. “Fag and... and that. He had a hard run for a couple of years. His parents had to come down to the school a few times.” Kian shrugged. “Then when he was seventeen or so... he lost some weight, came back for the last year and he seemed more... not confident, because it's Mark, but it seemed to roll off him, sort of. Like people said shit but he didn't care, and eventually they lost interest. Then we started doing this and it didn't really matter any more.”

“So things got better?”

“You could say that.” Shane raised an eyebrow. “Why are you asking?”

“No reason. Just interested.” Nicky went to stand up again. “Thanks lads.”

“No problem.” Neither of them looked like they were sure what they were being thanked for, and Nicky wasn't really sure either.

He climbed the stairs, gasping by the time he reached the ninth floor, let himself into their room. Mark was asleep, blankets to his chest and the TV on. Nicky switched it off, climbed in next to him. Turned off the lights.

He held Mark tight, feeling him turn sleepily into the embrace like a flower to the sun.

 


	13. Chapter 13

The first thing Mark noticed, as strange as it was, was that this was the first time he'd heard actual music since he'd gotten here. Almost three weeks and he'd heard nothing but hymns. Not that this was exactly Top 40, but there was country music, a bit of inoffensive pop and some old standards. They had to dance, and he found himself turning awkwardly in a circle with Karen, who looked as excited to be there as he felt.

He was wearing a nice shirt and black pants. His parents had told him to pack them and he hadn't known why at the time, but now it appeared that it was for this. Karen was a wearing a blue dress that fell to her knees, her hair out and floating around her shoulders, face made up. All the girls looked done up, all the boys tidy. They'd been checked repeatedly when they were getting dressed, a few of the boys being sent back to their cabins to fix ties or shine shoes. One girl had been asked to go get a cardigan when her dress had been considered a bit too revealing, and was tugging awkwardly at the sleeves while she danced resignedly with Gabriel a few feet over.

The song finished, and they stepped apart gratefully, both laughing when they caught the looks of relief on each other's faces. Mark hated dancing, and Karen intimated that she wasn't a fan either, their complete lack of rhythm complementing each other until Mark didn't feel so bad for being a dead fish on the dancefloor.

“You... want a drink or something?” He asked, trying to be chivalrous. He and Ben had gone over how he was supposed to behave at this sort of thing after their hugging session that afternoon. He was getting more used to it, he supposed. It definitely made the feel of Karen's arms around him feel a bit less uncomfortable by comparison.

She did want a drink. They went over, Mark nodding at Charlie, who was stood near the snack table chatting to Jonah. He and Jonah hadn't said a word to each other since the other morning. He'd spoken to Ben about that too, said he was trying to remove the temptation from his life. Ben had said he was proud of him for his forethought, said he was coming along really well. Mark had felt his whole body let out a sigh his mind hadn't known he was holding back. He'd done the right thing. It was good to hear.

He tried to make conversation. She was nice, but they didn't have much in common and after a while he found himself stood in a circle with her friends and their dates, chatting to the boys more than the girls. A couple of the red whistles broke it up, though. Said they were allowing themselves to become distracted. They went back to dancing.

Mark said he needed to go to the toilet. He hated this, turning what was supposed to be a fun evening into something so structured. He went outside, breathing in a lungful of fresh air, not knowing why he felt ill, why his heart was racing.

A shadow moved across the grass. He squinted, trying to see. Probably a deer or something – he'd seen a few lurking in the woods when they'd been on hikes or canoeing trips, but they blended into the trees as quickly as you saw them, half the time. He stepped a little closer, trying to shield his eyes from the light of the hall.

He saw it move again. Two people, he realised, moving slowly along the tree line. He was down the stairs a minute later, not sure when his legs had decided to move but caught with curiosity. They ducked behind the cabins and he followed, pulling up short when he realised it was Jonah and Charlie, whispering while he hoisted her foot with both hands, her fingers clutching the top of the fence.

“Jonah?”

Jonah nearly dropped her in surprise, caught her when she wobbled and fell with a yelp. They had backpacks on, black jeans and t-shirts. Mark stared, not sure what to make of it.

“Shh.” She hissed, adjusting her pack, already turning back to the fence. “Jonah. Hurry up.”

“You... you're running away?” He asked numbly, not able to believe it. Jonah was already linking his hands, giving her a place to stand. “Why?”

“Because I'm done.” Charlie growled. “I miss Emma and I want to go home. I'm not doing this crap any more.” She paused, looking at Mark. “Look, I know you're the bloody camp success story, but if you're going to snitch can you give us a ten minute headstart?”

“Success story...” He echoed, not sure what she was talking about. “What?”

“Yeah, I mean, you ditched Jonah when you found out you could be fucking perfect, right?” She glared. Jonah looked away, biting his lip. “But I'm not doing this shit. My counsellor tried to touch my tits and when I complained they said I was resisting therapy. They locked me in a damn shack in the woods.”

“She... she what?” Mark's mouth opened in shock. “When?”

She glared. “I'm not doing this. Neither's Jonah. We're fine as we are.”

“It's only another week.”

“Sorry, Mark.” Jonah shrugged. “I can't. I...” He glanced over Mark's shoulder. “Come with us.” He said finally. Mark stared, shocked. “Let's go. We're going to hitch-hike, try to get to a bus station or something. Emma's place is only a couple of hours away. We can go there.”

“My parents...”

“If they fucking cared then why did they send you here?” Jonah exclaimed quietly. Mark felt his stomach lurch. “You're fine. You're gorgeous.” He stood back up, stepping over, and a second later Mark felt a hand wrap around the back of his neck. He flinched. “Come with me.” Jonah murmured, leaning in. “We can be together.”

The kiss was soft. So soft. Mark felt himself stiffen, then he was sinking into it without warning, lips parting, hands coming up to rest on strong shoulders and feeling like all the air had been sucked out of him. Fingers slid up into his hair, another arm coming around his waist while he lost himself to the feeling of Jonah's breath filling him back up, eyes falling closed.

“Come with me.” Jonah whispered. Mark swallowed, feeling the swell of everything he'd been holding down rising back up. Feeling safe, for once, like everything else had been erased.

“No.” He breathed helplessly. “I can't. I...” But his body was moving, pressing into it, arm trapping Jonah against him while his mouth was caught again. Feeling good, slowed down, filled with heat. Feeling right, for the first time in long weeks.

“Hey!” He turned, shrinking away from the sudden light of a torch in his eyes, heard Charlie swear and start to run for it. Jonah let go, following. Mark was frozen.

He was about to run, but was tackled to the ground a second later, torchlight dancing over the grass to the beat of fleeing feet, kicking up shadows while they disappeared into the darkness.

 

*

 

When Nicky woke his vision was filled with big blue eyes that stared at him sleepily, their noses barely an inch apart. He could smell morning breath, feel Mark warm and soft pressed against him, their arms around each other.

“Erm.” Mark said. “Good morning.”

“Morning.” Nicky smiled, going to move away a little so he could see the other boy properly. Shifted, trying to adjust to where Mark's arms were and...

Oh.

“Oh.” He smirked, glancing down. “Good morning.” He saw Mark flush pink, felt him start to pull away.

“Sorry. Shit.” Mark looked near tears. “I didn't...”

“It's fine.” Nicky soothed, pulling him back in. “Stay. It's fine.”

“I don't want to...”

“Don't want to what?” Nicky tightened his grip, felt Mark struggle awkwardly.

“To have... I...”

“We're not going to have sex.” Nicky said calmly, reaching up a hand to brush hair from his forehead. “I don't want to either. It's fine.” He bent in, pecking the tip of a straight nose. “Just stop. Talk to me.”

“It's...”

“It'll go away.” Nicky promised. Mark felt tense, but he wasn't struggling any more, was closing his eyes, his face red. “We used to do this. Why don't you want to any more?” Though they hadn't, really. Their sex life had been furtive and uneasy at the best of times, and Mark never seemed comfortable in his own skin, like he was pretending it was happening to someone else.

“It was wrong.”

“Okay, but we're not going to do anything now.” He assured him. “Tell me what you're feeling.”

“Um...” He sucked in a breath, eyes still closed. “Hot. All over.”

“Okay...” He kept stroking dark hair, saw Mark's face screw up in concentration. “That's supposed to happen. It's good.” He smiled, kissing his nose again. He wasn't at all sure what he was doing, but Mark seemed to be panicking, like he wanted to crawl out of himself, and Nicky didn't want him to run away. Not again. “What else?”

“Hard.”

“You are.” Nicky smiled. “It's lovely. Doesn't it feel good?”

“Yes, but...” He sucked in a deep breath. “Not supposed to.”

“Why not?” He reached down, trailing fingers gently up a strong, trembling thigh. “So beautiful.” He whispered, felt Mark flinch. “It's what it's supposed to do. It's perfect.” His fingers drifted up the curve of a hip, back up his side to wrap around him, pulling them together. Mark whimpered, eyes closing tighter. “I'm not going to touch it if you don't want me to. I never would.” He was getting softer, his body taking over naturally as he got more upset. “It happens to everyone.”

“It's not supposed to... with boys. It hurts.”

“Why does it hurt?”

“It...” His eyes squeezed shut. “It's supposed to hurt.”

“No it's not.” A lump filled his throat. “It's supposed to be nice.”

“No. If it's with girls it's... it's good. It's fine. If it hurts I won't want to.”

“It's nice with girls too, if you're into that.” He found himself smiling. “Just ask the others. I prefer boys, though.” He kissed closed eyelids, tasting tears, feeling the tickle of lashes against his lips. “I prefer you. What's wrong with that?”

“You'll leave.” Mark whispered. “And I'll have to start all over again.”

“Start what?”

He shook his head. He was almost soft again, was relaxing a little. Nicky wrapped around him, kissing his neck, feeling him shake.

“If I leave, I leave.” He said finally. “Sometimes things don't work out. It doesn't mean you shouldn't try.” His lips found an ear, pressed gently down the curve of a jaw. “But I don't want to be with you right now.” He murmured, felt Mark tense. “I'm not going to chase you if you don't want to be caught. But you like boys. It's part of who you are.” He gathered him closer. “Tell me what happened to you.”

“No.” Mark whispered. “Nothing happened.”

“It did.” Nicky replied. He glanced over at the alarm clock. “We've got to get up.” He said, hating the fact that time was catching up on them. “But I want to talk about this.”

“I don't.”

“I know.” Nicky said quietly. “But how's that been working out for you?”

 

*

 

Ben came to visit him two hours later.

He was in a small shack. There was nothing else in here but a pillow on the floor. He could sit but there was barely enough room to lie down and if he'd been much taller he wouldn't have managed it. He had been dragged down a small path in the dark, almost blind with tears, and been pushed inside, the door locked behind him. He hadn't been able to see, had pushed on the door, throwing his shoulder against it, then leaning against it when he realised it was futile, sobbing.

After a while his eyes adjusted. There was a small window set into the top of the wall and he could just see the light of the moon, picking corners and edges and turning them flat silver until he could get his bearings a little. He sat on the floor, pillow underneath him for a bit of comfort while he cried, Jonah's taste still on his mouth.

The door opened, light spilling in. He looked up, wiping away tears.

Ben stepped in, a sad smile on his face and an electric lantern in his hand, and Mark scooted over a little, making room for the older man to sit next to him.

“You tried to run away.”

“I didn't.” Mark shook his head. “I just... I saw them moving and went to see what was happening.”

“You were kissing Jonah when they caught you.” Mark didn't have an argument for that. “Gabriel told us everything. He said you and Jonah have been sneaking off together, hiding contraband. He heard you talking at night. Saw him kiss you.” Mark closed his eyes, feeling a flood of shame go through him. He'd thought the others had been asleep, had never thought... “I really thought you were trying.”

“I am. I stopped it.” Mark tried to explain. “I told him to stop.”

“But you were kissing him tonight.”

“He kissed me.”

“You let him.” He had. He could have pulled away, but he'd allowed it. It had just been so overwhelming. Soft and tender, his lips parting to let in Jonah's taste, his arms winding around a strong body and pulling him in tighter, clinging to him. “He left you, you know.” Mark nodded, feeling the knot in his stomach tighten. Watching feet dash away from him as soon as they'd been caught. “This is what I've tried to explain to you. It's very exciting, I know, but it's not real. He was only using you, trying to get you to be something you're not."

“He...” Mark didn't know how to argue with that. “Did they catch him?”

“Yes.” That made him want to cry, for some reason. “Charlie too. Their parents have been contacted.” Mark nodded. “We haven't contacted yours yet. I want to give you a second chance.” He wrapped an arm around Mark's shoulder. “You were doing really well until now.”

“I was trying.” He needed to make Ben believe that. He didn't want his parents contacted, didn't want people to find out. “Please. I was. I can...”

“We're going to have to step up your treatment.” Ben said. “You need to be prepared for that.”

“I am. I can... anything. I'll do anything.” He begged. “I didn't mean to. I didn't know...”

“It'll be hard. Physically and emotionally. I want to know that you can take it, that you'll do what I say.” Ben hugged him a little closer and Mark leaned into his shoulder, feeling like he was going to be sick. The last week had been torture. But it would be even worse to go back home and pick up life where he'd left off, being frightened every day, feeling like every time he walked through the school gates he was descending into hell.

“I'll do it.” Mark decided. “Whatever it takes.”

“Okay.” Ben stood up. “I want you to stay in here tonight. You're letting yourself lose focus, and I think it'll help to take away outside stimulation. I want you to really think about what you're doing here, what you want.” Stay in here? Mark looked around. It was barely big enough to sit in. Still, he had said 'anything'...

The door closed, leaving him in the dark again.

He didn't have a watch, had no idea what time it was when he finally fell asleep. It felt ages and when he woke it was still pitch black but the moon had disappeared from his window. The stars were still there. His mind felt like it was racing, too many thoughts fighting for attention at once.

Jonah had left him.

That one hit him, seeming to rush loud in his ears. Jonah had told him to come, and for a second he'd thought... maybe. Maybe it would be okay. Start again. Go somewhere else, be someone else. And then things had gone badly, just for a second, and Jonah...

He'd been trying so hard. They'd said he'd made progress. Even Charlie had noticed. Success story, she'd said. He'd thought he was getting a hold on it, had pushed Jonah away and decided to be what his parents wanted him to be, what he wanted to be. To start to fix what was wrong with him.

And in a second he'd just...

The rubber band was still on his wrist. He snapped it hard, felt the shock of impact and then the sting. Yelped. It helped though, just like it always had. For a second there was nothing but the pain, blocking out the remembered taste of lips, the delicate touch of fingers on his skin.

He sat for a long time, just snapping it against his wrist, the sound the only punctuation to break up the silence outside. He lay back down, curled into a ball on the floor, feet against one wall, knees against another. Looked up, able to see the stars through the small window, bright and scattered like broken glass across the sky. Tried to pretend he was at home when things were simpler, when he hadn't fancied anyone, when he'd just been happy laying on the grass in his backyard, going to the small country school where it had seemed everyone was friends.

Sleep didn't come again, seemed to flee every time he got close. He managed a doze, was woken by the sound of something scratching against the wood outside the shack. Sat up straight, panicking, then stayed frozen until it rustled back into the woods.

Eventually dawn light crawled across the room. He watched it, head on the pillow and staring sideways across the floor as shadows lengthened and climbed the walls, listening to the sounds of the outside settle into a different pitch as the world around him started to wake. He felt like he'd been here days, with nothing to distract him and no way to tell time except the changing angle of the shadows.

He wondered if he'd been forgotten.

He found he didn't really mind either way.

It must have been at least ten when he heard rattling at the door and it swung open. He blinked in the sudden flood of sunlight, realising it was Ben when his eyes adjusted.

“Breakfast.” The older man crouched down in front of him, handing him an apple and a bread-roll. He took a bite of the roll immediately, not realising how hungry he was. It was plain, just had a bit of butter on it, but he managed half of it before he realised Ben was watching him, a small smile on his mouth.

“Thanks.”

“Quite alright.” It was a soft, kind chuckle. “You want to come out and have a chat?” He nodded, putting down the apple on his pillow, keeping the roll clenched in his hand. His legs were unsteady when he stood, and the sunlight hurt his eyes, but they adjusted after a moment.

They sat down beside the river while he finished his roll. Mark could see a few more small shacks up the path, wondered why he hadn't noticed them before. He couldn't see the camp from here, though, so figured he just hadn't come this far before. He wondered if there other people inside or if it was just him. He wondered where Jonah and Charlie were.

“Tell me what happened last night.”

He took a deep breath, watching his toes squish in the mud. He'd taken off his shoes during the night, was still in his dress pants and nice shirt from the dance. He wondered what had happened to his date, whether she thought he'd stood her up or something.

“I went to get some air, and I saw Jonah and Charlie trying to climb over the fence.” He bit his lip, not liking telling on his friends but knowing he'd promised to do anything. Hating them a little for putting him in this position. Hating himself. “And Jonah asked if I'd come with them.”

“What did you say?”

“Nothing. He...” Mark looked down at the ripples of water lapping the shore. “Then he kissed me.”

“You've kissed him before.”

“Yes.” He nodded, feeling his cheeks go hot. “A few times.”

“What else did you do with him?”

“I...” He sucked back ashamed tears. “I touched him. I let him touch me.” He admitted softly.

“Did you like it?”

“Yes.” He nodded. He had. God, he had.

“It's very common.” Ben said kindly. “Especially when you've had trouble forming relationships with boys. That sort of intimacy can be a real rush, but you have to understand that it's poisoned from the start. After a while it isn't good any more. It's like junk food – at first it's delicious but if you keep having it it gets bland and you want more, but it just makes you sick. It doesn't go anywhere or make you any better or happier.”

“No.” God knew he didn't feel happy. “What do I do?”

“Come on.” Ben stood up, reaching out a hand. Mark took it, letting it tug him up. They walked back to the shed, and he slipped inside. Ben stopped outside the door, leaning in the frame. “You still want to do this?” Mark nodded. He was pulled into a hug a second later, let himself fall into it. He wanted to collapse, wanted to cry, but arms were holding him up. Ben stepped back, letting go. “I need you to take your clothes off.”

“What?” Mark looked down at himself, stomach knotting. No. God. He didn't even shower naked at school. “I...”

“Do this with an open mind.” Ben smiled, putting a hand on his arm. “It's okay. It's totally routine.”

Slowly he did as he was told, unbuttoning his shirt and slipping it off, feeling goosebumps prickle all over his arms and down his back, the cold air like plaster, stuck to his skin. He shivered, shrugging it off his shoulders, feeling horribly exposed. He unbuttoned his trousers a second later, glad he was wearing boxer shorts and not briefs. He felt awful, nipples hard in the cold and everything else feeling like it was shrinking, suddenly aware of every lump and scar.

Ben stepped inside, closing the door. It was dimmer, suddenly, the only light coming from the little window.

“Do you feel comfortable?”

“No.” He shook his head.

“Why not?”

“Because...” He looked down at himself. “Not a big fan of people seeing me naked.” He tried to joke awkwardly, divert attention from how pale he was.

“Do you think they're judging you?”

“Yes.” He nodded.

“Do you think you're not attractive?”

“Yes.” He bit his lip, shifting to try to warm up a bit.

“Why do you care if another man finds you attractive or not?” Ben crossed his arms. “Do you want other men to find you attractive?” Mark shook his head. “Stand up straight.” He said. Mark did, slowly, uncrossing his arms to let them hang by his sides. “Take your underwear off.”

“I...” He looked down. “Why?”

“Why not?” Ben raised an eyebrow. “I'm not a woman, so why should it matter if I see it or not? It's all about being comfortable in your own skin. You're perfect, you need to be able to express that without worrying what other men think of you. It's the only way you'll be able to find your true self.” A hand landed on his shoulder again, stroking gently. It was probably trying to be comforting but it wasn't helping. “Underwear off.”

That made sense, he supposed. He wasn't attracted to Ben, why should he care whether Ben was interested back? It didn't feel that simple, though. It wasn't about attraction. It was about being exposed, somebody seeing someone for who he was underneath, all the little flaws he worried about every day.

He tugged down his underwear, hands going automatically to cover himself.

“There we are.” Ben smiled. They were standing very close, not that there was much choice in a space this small. He could almost feel breath on his skin. “See? Not so bad.”

Mark wasn't sure if that was how he'd put it. He shivered, feeling a hand touch his arm.

“Right, now I need you to close your eyes, and I want you to tell me how this feels.” He did, and a second later a hand touched his chest, a soft palm and fingers splaying out. “How's that?”

“Weird.” He admitted.

“Are you enjoying it?” He shook his head. “Why not?”

“Because...” He swallowed hard. “I want to stop.”

“No. Now what if I put my hand here?” It slid down his stomach. “How's that?”

“No.”

“On a scale of one to ten, how aroused would you say you are?”

“Um... one? None?” He felt the opposite, wanted to pull away. But there was nowhere to go and he'd promised he'd do this. In a way he was glad he had his eyes closed so he didn't have to look at the other man, see his own pale body vulnerable in the dim light.

“Excellent.” He couldn't see Ben, but knew he was smiling. He was always bloody smiling. “You see? It's not an attraction to every boy, it's an attraction to how particular boys make you feel. Did Jonah make you feel accepted? Comfortable?"

“Yes.” He nodded. He had. The idea hit him with a queasy twist. Jonah had been his friend. Or so he'd thought.

“Do I?”

“I... yeah. I guess. I think you want to help.” Mark said. “It was working, right?”

“It definitely was. But now we're running out of time and we need to make up some ground.” The hand slid lower and he yelped when it pushed past his hands, wrapping around him. “Now, I'm touching you and you're not aroused at all.” Mark nodded. No, he definitely wasn't, was feeling a wave of revulsion. “That's what it should be when you're touched by a man. That's how we know it's working.” The hand squeezed, then let go settling back onto his shoulder. “That's it for now.” Mark opened his eyes, saw the smile he knew would be there. “You did really well.”

“Thanks.” He started putting his clothes back on when Ben gestured that he could, feeling better almost immediately. “What happens now?”

He opened the door, the sunlight flooding back in. Mark blinked. “I want you to stay here and reflect on what's happened this morning. I'll be back with lunch and we'll have another session. I'll move my other appointments around. You...” He stepped out of the shed. “Are my number one priority, okay? I really think you can do this.”

“Thanks.” That made him feel a little better. The door closed again. He sat down on his pillow, scooping up the apple and taking a hesitant bite.

 


	14. Chapter 14

The day was long and busy, as the days tended to be when they were in other countries. They only had two days in Sweden and then were back on the bus, headed across Europe. Norway, Denmark, Germany... Kian was excited about meeting attractive Scandinavian girls. Bryan didn't really care where they were from as long as they were attractive. Not that there was much time for meeting them when they were dashing from shoot to interview and back again, their time somehow shorter than it had been when they'd done Ireland and the UK a few weeks before.

It was late when he and Mark slouched back into their room. Nicky went to have a shower, letting the hot water wash away the grime and exhaustion of the day. He came back out to find Mark curled up in bed with his eyes closed, pretending to be asleep.

Nicky didn't know how he could tell that Mark was faking it, but it was sort of nice having that knowledge, being so familiar with the little things, like the way he breathed, the way his hands would usually clench a little in sleep. He slid into bed beside the other boy, resting a hand on his chest and snuggling up to his side.

“I know you're awake.”

Mark flinched.

“Trying to go to sleep.” He murmured. “Tired.”

“I know. Me too.” Nicky stroked a thumb over the ridge of a collarbone. “You were really good today. I was so proud of you.”

“Yeah?” Mark said quietly. He sounded like he thought Nicky was joking or something, like it was a prank, but his voice was small and hopeful.

“Yeah.” Nicky nodded. “You sounded gorgeous. I love your voice.”

“Thanks.” Colour rose to his cheeks. “I like yours too.”

“Thank you.” He skated fingers down his neck, feeling the hint of stubble under a strong jaw. “Do you want to know why I fell in love with you? At first?” Mark didn't reply, but after a moment of silence he hitched a shoulder shyly. “Because I knew you were going to surprise me.”

Blue eyes opened, tinged with confusion.

“What?”

“Yeah.” Nicky chuckled. “I mean, I thought you were cute. Because... well.” He gestured at the body laid next to him, got a blush and self-conscious grimace in return. “Speaks for itself, really.” He winked. “But I didn't mind about that so much as I didn't know who you were. You looked so careful on the surface, like you were trying so hard to be something, and I just wanted to look underneath and find out what you were really like.”

“I'm not that interesting.”

“Yeah you are.” He ran his fingers around the curve of an ear, mapping it out. “You have the most beautiful voice. You always listen. Not like you're waiting for someone else to stop speaking, but because you want to know what they have to say. You make me laugh. God, you make me laugh.” He snickered to himself, remembering some of the odd, random things he'd heard Mark say over the last year when he'd been a little bit tipsy and not guarding his words so much. “I feel like every time you turn around there's a different side to you. Like, there's some hidden talent I didn't know you had, or some idea I never even thought of. You fascinate me.”

“You're mad.”

“Yep.” Nicky nodded, got a hesitant smile in return. “Who hurt you?” He said, finally. Saw startled eyes turn up to look at him. “Who made you think it wasn't okay to be who you are?”

“This is who I am.”

“It isn't.” Nicky sighed. “I talk to the others and they tell me about this kid called Mark who was really funny and sweet and cool and... I want to meet him. Because he sounds amazing.”

“I grew up.”

“You compromised.” Nicky traced one eyebrow with the tip of his thumb, then the other, smoothing out the tiny hairs. “Why?”

“We compromise all the time. The hair. The clothes.” Mark pointed out. “You can't tell me you're the kind of person who wears white Gucci head-to-toe when you're just sitting at home on the couch.”

“No, because I can put it aside at the end of the day.” Nicky shook his head. “But I know who I am. I can do that stuff because I'm not ashamed of what's underneath.”

“I'm not ashamed.”

“Then why are you always apologising for the way you feel? Why are you frightened of it?” Nicky asked. “It's who you are.”

“Yeah, well 'who I am' got the shit kicked out of me at school.” Mark bit back, eyes blazing with sudden defensive anger. “It made people treat me like crap. It made my own parents send me away to get fixed because they were worried about what it was going to make people do to me. Who I am... it could kill me.”

“How?”

“You don't understand.”

“Because you won't _tell_ me.” Nicky argued. He sat up, looking down at the frustrated face that was half-turned into the pillows. “We had sex. It was fine. You're still alive.” He grabbed Mark's wrist, pressing his thumb to where the pulse would be. “Yep. Look.”

“I didn't want to.” Mark spat, sitting up. “It hurt and I hated it.” Nicky reeled back, feeling like he'd been slapped. “It's not supposed to feel good and it didn't. I fucking fixed it.”

“Fixed what?” Nicky knew he was raising his voice but he couldn't make himself care. “Jesus, you want to have bad sex so you can convince yourself you don't want good sex? I didn't much like having sex with you either, but you wanted it. You told me to. I wanted to make you feel good because I loved you and you were... what? Using me?”

“I loved you too. I wanted to stop.” Mark growled. “It worked last time.”

“What worked last time?” Nicky demanded. Mark's mouth was pinching shut, like he was take back what he'd just said. “What worked last time?” He repeated.

“I don't want to talk about it.”

“Tough shit.” Nicky grabbed his wrist as he went to stand up. Mark yanked it away, already headed for the bathroom. Nicky chased after him, blocking his way. “Stop. Don't run away from me.” Trembling hands tried to shove him out of the way but he pushed back, grabbing Mark by the shoulders. “You owe me. You told me you loved me and you used me.”

“Yeah, well, I'm gay. That's what I'm supposed to do.” Mark growled.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“I'm sick. I lie. I use people.” Mark was still trying to get past, but Nicky was blocking him. “It's part of the disease. It's what it is. And I don't want to do it any more.”

“That's fucking crazy!” Nicky exclaimed. “I've never lied to you. I've never used you.”

“You will.”

“Would you stop it? Did they really fuck you up that badly?”

“Who?”

“I...” Nicky realised what he'd been about to say, what he'd been about to admit to. His heart was racing in his chest, tears burning in his eyes and he just couldn't take it any more. Take this sad, confused boy that for some reason could take everything he'd allowed himself to be and make it shameful. “What happened at New Path?” He said finally. Mark froze.

“What?”

“I found...” He swallowed. “I found out. Where you went. I...” He went to his suitcase, pulling out the print-outs. “I wanted to help, so...” He handed the pages to Mark, who took them with slack, clumsy hands.

“You had no right.”

“I know.” Nicky nodded. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to pry but... I needed to know. I couldn't look at you suffering and not try to help.” Mark was still staring at the front page, his eyes locked onto the picture. “What did they do to you?”

“They fixed me.”

“They hurt you.” He struggled, trying to figure out what to say next. “They hurt other people. Your friend. He... he killed himself, right? After what happened there?” Mark's face went white. Nicky stepped forward, putting a hand on his arm, feeling it shake with tension. “What happened?”

Mark sank down onto the floor. Didn't sit, just sort of folded, like his legs were giving out. Nicky sat beside him, feeling a shock of deja vu. Feeling like he had almost two months before when Mark had been crying on a different hotel carpet in a different country.

“It wasn't their fault.” He said finally. “He wasn't well.”

“Who wasn't?”

Mark swallowed, lips moving silently. He shook his head, staring down at his lap.

“Jonah.” He whispered. “He wouldn't let them help. He...” He buried his face in his hands, shaking. Nicky moved closer, wrapping both arms around him and pulling him close.

 

*

 

Ben came back at lunch time with fresh clothes and some lunch. There was a small toilet block a little up the path and he was allowed to go in and clean himself up a bit, use the loo. He was grateful, had been busting for a few hours. He'd knocked on the door, called out to see if there was someone who could let him out to go in the bushes or something, but had had no reply.

He'd sat in the quiet, trying to think about what had happened that morning. He supposed it hadn't been awful, not once he started to turn it over in his head and look at it objectively. He hadn't been hurt, and he supposed it had been kind of comforting, not having the wrong sorts of feelings when he was stood there naked, another man's hand on him. Like evidence that he was on the right path.

This time they both took their clothes off. It was weird. A bit like the hugging, but more intense. But he had been warned that things would step up now they'd he'd backslid. They hugged again, and Mark closed his eyes, trying to listen to the murmured encouragement that they were just two guys hugging, that even naked it didn't need to be sexual. Ben asked if he wanted it to be sexual and Mark said no. Ben said that that was good.

Time seemed to crawl while he sat in the shed by himself. He still had no way of telling time, but the shadows were shifting across the room, starting to lurk long and high in the corner by the time it started to get dark. He found himself drifting, escaping into his own head, his eyes fixed on the small window. Clouds drifted by and he wondered where they were going, pictured the ripples on the river, wondered what animals were beneath it, seeing fish and frogs in his mind's eye, little insects pricking the surface and being snatched up and devoured.

He was brought dinner, allowed to use the bathroom again. They gave him a bucket in case he needed to go during the night, but Ben didn't appear. Not until later, when he was dozing off in a ball on the floor, eyes trained on the window and trying to catch a glimpse of a star through heavy grey clouds.

When he woke it was very late and he was all knotted up. Tried to stretch and looked down, realising he had gotten hard while he'd been asleep and felt himself blush, invisible in the darkness of the shed but hot on his cheeks.

He sat in the corner, snapping the band against his wrist. Wishing it would go away. It started to, after a while. He stared up at the window, seeing the haze of a bright moon through the clouds.

The door opened. Ben was stood there, his usual smile on his face. Mark nodded, then when Ben's gaze drifted down he realised there was still a bulge in his trousers.

“What have you been doing?”

“Nothing.” He shifted, trying to cover it. “I woke up like this. I've been trying to...” He lifted his wrist, showing the red marks the rubber band had left. “I didn't know what else to do.”

“Oh, Mark...” The older man sank down next to him with a disappointed sigh. “You were doing so well.”

“I didn't mean to. It just...”

“I know, but it means your mind is still trying to force unwanted sexual responses. In here...” He tapped Mark's forehead lightly. “We need to go deeper, I think. It's not enough just to try, you have to _become_. If you're always trying, one day you won't try hard enough. We need to completely eradicate those thoughts from your subconscious.”

Mark nodded, thinking that sounded quite alright to him.

“Clothes off.”

“But...” He looked down. “Can we wait until it goes away?” He pleaded, mortified. But Ben shook his head.

“No, we need to intervene while it's still happening. Force it to stop. Quickly. There's not much time.”

Mark obeyed, wriggling out of his clothes. He covered himself, face burning with shame when Ben looked at him.

“Subconsciously you want a man to touch you.” He said, hand landing on Mark's shoulder. “I know it's easy to get swept up in confusing acceptance for intimacy, but you don't realise how damaging it is. The gay sexual experience is empty and painful. Believe me, I know. Turn around.” He did, glancing nervously over his shoulder when he was directed to rest his hands on the wall. The lantern clicked off, plunging the room into darkness. “When you think about being with boys, what do you think about?”

“I don't know.” Mark shrugged. It was all a bit nebulous, the concept of sex with boys. He knew what it was supposed to be with girls, of course, and he supposed he understood the mechanics. In his head it had always been vague. Hands moving slowly and lots of kissing, touching and hearing soft gasps and moans, feeling fingers on him in the same way he touched himself, already knowing that it felt good. “Kissing and stuff, I guess.” He said. The cold was prickling up his back, or maybe that was nerves. A hand touched his back.

“It's not like that at all.” Ben sighed. “Your true self wants to be with a woman, because that's what it's like. It's what it's supposed to be. With men it isn't. There's only one thing they want, and it's painful and damaging.” Fingers trailed down his back, and he yelped in shock and sudden pain when one pushed inside him. He gasped, trying to pull away from the dry burning violation. “Do you like that?”

“No.” He whimpered. His erection was all but gone now. “Stop. It hurts.”

“Hold still.” An arm braced on his shoulders, pressing him to the wall. “It'll be over in a minute.” A second finger went in, though, and he cried out when he felt them move, pushing deeper and spreading apart. “That's what it does to you. It's not natural is it? It doesn't just hurt your body, it hurts your soul.” Mark nodded furiously, just wanting to agree, just wanting it to stop. The fingers pulled out and he buried his face in his arms. “That's your future, if you go down this path.” Ben said. “But we can do this safely, get your subconscious to realise it doesn't want it. That homosexual intimacy is a lie. We can shock it back onto the right path.” The door opened, and Mark bent down to grab his clothes, clutching them to his chest. Ben leaned in, hugging him with one arm. “I'm so glad you want to change.” He said. “Let's keep it up, okay?”

Once he was gone Mark lay on the floor of the shed, the pillow clutched to his stomach. Everything hurt. He couldn't believe the pain, the sudden ripping feeling. Wondered what that would be like with something bigger, wondered why he would ever want that.

The thought was oddly comforting.

He didn't want that. Didn't know what he wanted, but it wasn't that.

There were no bad thoughts that night. There wasn't room for them, not with the pain taking up all the space in his head.

 

*

 

Nicky lay on the bed, Mark cuddled against his chest. The other boy had cried himself out hours before and was just laying now, his eyes wide open and staring at nothing, like he was lost somewhere only he could see. Nicky stroked his hair, not knowing what to say.

He dozed off, woke up to Mark asleep, his eyes closed and hand bunched in Nicky's t-shirt, clinging on. Nicky tugged the blanket up to cover the both of them, freezing when he felt Mark shift against his chest with a soft mutter of nonsense, looking agitated. He settled eventually, and Nicky watched him for a long time, feeling totally helpless, his heart sick.

 

*

 

He woke up to the sound of rain pattering on the tin roof above him. It was light, but only just, and for a long while he just lay there with his eyes closed pretending he was anywhere else. Listening to every raindrop fall, feeling the slight spray of them whenever the wind gusted in through the little window. Cold on his face, on his hands, getting heavier and thundering a drumbeat above him so it drowned out everything else.

He hurt. Felt raw in a way that wasn't just physical, like a sickness climbing up inside him needing to be bled out.

Ben came with breakfast.

 

*

 

The club was loud. It was nice, in a way, the beat running up through his bones and thumping away any thought that tried to take hold. The others had wanted to go out, get a couple of drinks, so he'd tagged along. Mark and Kian were at the bar, the others had wandered off by themselves and Nicky was stood near the dancefloor, back against a pole, trying to decided if he felt like joining in or not.

He didn't know what he was supposed to do. Mark was refusing to talk about it again and Nicky was running out of patience. Sick of having Mark break down, sick of being snuggled up in bed together most nights and then just as quickly pushed away and ignored like he was doing something wrong. He felt like he was in some horrible nightmare where he was running down a hallway but every time he reached the end he was back at the beginning again.

He felt used. Felt like he was some crutch for when Mark needed to project all his self-hatred onto someone else, someone to sit there and reassure Mark that he was fine when Mark didn't want to hear it. He felt like he was doing all the work, trying to figure Mark out, trying to make him better, being pushed away and broken up with but still clung to at night.

He was angry.

So so fucking angry.

“Here.” A drink was pressed into his hand and he looked up, catching blue eyes shining with hesitation, like lacquer over a thousand fathoms of pain and hurt.

“Thanks.” He said, hating himself for the affection and pity tendriling through his heart. Wanting to take away the lost look, wanting to find a way to convince Mark that he didn't have to punish himself. Because there was nothing wrong with him. Wanted to tell him to stop being ashamed and angry. Knowing how that felt, being so so alone and just wanting someone to tell him that it was all going to be okay, that they understood. That he was enough. “I like your jacket.” He said. Mark looked down, like he was surprised he was even wearing one.

“Thanks.” He said. “One of the wardrobe girls was getting rid of it.”

“It's nice.” It was. Not this year's, maybe not even label, but it fitted him well, a brown soft leather blazer that covered up everything while managing to make him look a little sexy, especially paired with a black shirt with a slight v-neck, a hint of chest-hair peeking out above. “You'll be picking up, Feehily.”

Mark didn't look like he knew what to say to that, just sort of blushed, shuffling his feet.

“That guy keeps looking at you."

“I know.” Nicky chuckled. He'd noticed. He was a nice enough prospect, Nicky supposed. A little shorter than him, with dark hair and lazy stubble. Looked like the kind of guy who'd be the sexy gardener in an American soap opera, trimming hedges with his shirt off and washing himself off under the hose...

Okay, so Nicky had noticed him too.

“Do you fancy him?

“Yes.” Nicky said honestly, glancing over at hesitant, downcast eyes. “Do you?”

“No.” Mark bit his lip, blushing. “Course not.”

“Uh huh.” He reached down, squeezing Mark's wrist, feeling it shift under his grip. “Would it be a problem if I chatted him up?” He saw Mark's mouth purse disapprovingly.

“What, you'd just go off with him?”

“No. I was just going to have a dance, maybe. Bit of a snog. We're going to Denmark tomorrow, so it's not like I'm going to make a six-month plan.”

“What if someone sees?”

“So what if they do?” Nicky shrugged. He'd been thinking over this himself, was sick of hiding who he was for some artificial reason that had nothing to do with what he wanted.

“They'll know you're gay.”

“Okay.” He stood up a little straighter, smirking when he was given a wink.

“But...” Mark sounded like he was biting his lip, but Nicky couldn't tell for sure. He was a little bit busy leaning back against the pole, slouching slightly and stuffing his hands in his pockets. The guy looked him up and down, so Nicky raised an eyebrow and licked his lips. “What are you doing?”

“Flirting.”

“What, like out in public?”

“That's generally the idea.” He smiled when the guy started to weave over through the crowd.

“Hej.”

“Hi.” Nicky slumped back a little into the pole, letting his hips settle forward. Oh, he was better looking close-up. “Erm... Engelska?”

“Ja. Yes.” The guy laughed. “English?”

“Irish. Ehm... Ir... Irland?”

“Your Swedish is not good.”

“No, I know.” He let out a self-deprecating laugh, got a chuckle back. “How do you say dance?”

“Dans. Same.”

“Brilliant.” He necked the rest of his drink and put it down, already beginning to head past onto the dancefloor. A hand slid into his as they wove through, and when he looked back the guy was looking at him with cheeky blue eyes. Once they found a clear spot he turned, grinning when he was tugged against a hard body, his hands coming up to rest on strong shoulders. “Hej.”

“Hello.” The guy grinned. His accent was thick, but understandable, and Nicky didn't think it really mattered how much talking they were getting done. He could barely hear himself over the music as it was. “Mattias.”

“Nicky.” He shouted back, giggling when hands drifted down to land on his hips, holding them together.

There wasn't much else to say after that. Mattias felt good. Solid and strong, fingers getting a little braver and sliding around to almost drift over his arse, thumbs making circles in the hollow of his hips. He could feel himself getting a little hard, feel the response against him, but didn't really mind. He moaned softly when he felt lips touch his ear, rolling heat spreading through his body.

It had been a while. Maybe six months since he'd done this, just felt someone against him. Knowing it probably wasn't going anywhere but still enjoying the feel. Skin on skin, the slide of clothes against his own, someone pliant and willing, the rush of knowing he was wanted, even if nothing had to happen. Wanting someone back.

Mattias asked if he was in town long. Nicky said just for the night. The guy looked a little crestfallen, which was the nicest feeling. Nicky rested his chin on his shoulder, turning his face in to breathe in the intoxicating masculine scent of cologne, sweat and musk.

Mark was watching them.

He was still stood against the pole, Shane next to him, but he wasn't paying attention to what he was doing at all. Was staring at Nicky with an indefinably sad look in his eyes.

Nicky closed his eyes, not wanting to see it. He had to stop this. Chasing Mark all over the place. He wanted to find out what was going on, wanted to be there for him, but he'd already put six months of his life on hold. He'd gone to bloody Blackpool, for god's sake. Breaking and entering. And for what? Mark didn't want him to. He wasn't Nicky's to fix, not if he didn't want to be fixed. Trying to fix Mark was what had hurt him in the first place, and Nicky didn't want to make things worse.

He laughed as Kian came past, distracted from his thoughts by watching the younger boy practically skip after a girl barely wearing a pink minidress. They were snogging before they'd even started dancing, his hands all over her arse. Nicky rolled his eyes. Some people had no bloody class.

“You want to get out of here?”

Nicky shook his head, laughing.

“I'm fine here for a bit.” He replied, got a pout in reply. “You feel good.” He said, pressing his lips to Mattias' ear. “Keep doing what you're doing.”

“Mmm...” A kiss brushed up his jaw, parting in a laugh when he moaned, one hand closing automatically into his hair. Nicky let the other hand travel down his back, feeling the smooth curve of muscle under his palm, rounding out when he grazed a firm arse. Teeth nipped his neck, his eyes falling closed on a shudder.

“Oh.” He bit his lip, thinking he might be changing his mind. The mouth travelled back up his chin, brushing over his own. He allowed it, parting his lips and feeling hot breath flood his mouth, the kiss soft and hard at the same time, tugging and coaxing. Felt a tongue trace the inside of his top lip and moaned again, heard it echoed. “Want to get some air?” He suggested, saw a devilish smirk cross the mouth pulling away from his.

There was a deck out back, and he giggled as they wove through the crowd, nudging people out of the way, hands on his hips the whole time. It was a little quieter outside, especially with the cold weather. He didn't feel cold at all, though he shivered when he was pressed against the railing, kisses dotting his neck.

“Tease.” Mattias whispered. He laughed, feeling hardness against his back. Fingers slid under his shirt, palming to his stomach, hot and firm. His head tilted back, searching out an awkward kiss, hips rolling into the hand starting to slide back down. There were people around them, but they barely seemed to be looking and he couldn't make himself care. Not when fingers were trailing teasingly along the top of his belt, making him burn.

“Yes.” He gasped, though whether it was acquiescence or a compliment he wasn't sure. But fuck it. He was single, he was young, and he hadn't done something stupid in a while. He felt the fingers delve a little deeper, finding where he was hard against the inside of his jeans, glad he hadn't put on underwear. Mattias growled, tickling slowly over the head, spreading stickiness.

“I want to fuck you.” He whispered. Nicky shook his head.

“No.” He said. “Handjob?”

“Yes.” Mattias laughed, not sounding disappointed. Nicky grinned. He'd missed this. The excitement, the ease. Making someone else feel good. “Toilets?”

“Shit yeah.” He turned around, groaning when he was yanked into a hard kiss, hardness grinding against his, a mouth leaving Nicky's lips a second later to scrape up his jaw. He could just see Bryan inside, watching with a raised eyebrow, and laughed when he was given a thumbs up and a wink. Nicky gave him a thumbs up back. Bryan lifted his hand to his mouth, miming sucking a cock. Nicky rolled his eyes. Bryan started to laugh, then wandered off with a drink in his hand, disappearing into the crowd.

They stumbled into the toilets, mouths locked together. Mattias backed into an empty stall, and Nicky grinned, taking a second to look at him. Cute and flushed, cock hard inside a pair of jeans that had to be a size too small. Nicky let his eyes wander over the ridge of it, wondering how that would feel in his hand.

The stall next to them opened, and Mark came out. Nicky paused, halfway into the stall, Mark halfway out. Their eyes locked, and Nicky realised Mark had been crying. Wondered how he looked himself.

Mark shook his head, going over to wash his hands. Nicky stared, one foot in the stall, a hand already beginning to grope at his jeans.

“Marky...”

Mark didn't reply, but his face crumpled up in the mirror, head bowed as he washed his hands. Before Nicky knew it he was pulling away from Mattias, going over to put a hand on his shoulder.

“What's wrong, love?”

“It's fine. Nothing. It's fine.” Mark muttered, sounding choked. “I don't care.”

“Don't care about what?” Though he suspected he already knew, considering he was hard, his jeans were half undone, and there was a Swedish boy waiting impatiently in the stall behind him. He wanted to hear Mark say it. Say something, for fuck's sake. Something honest. “Tell me.”

“It's fine.”

“It's not. Come here.” He grabbed a paper towel, began to dab gently at tear-stained cheeks. “Tell me what's wrong.”

“It's fine. I'm being stupid.”

“About what?”

“Just...” Mark shook his head, glancing over Nicky's shoulder. “Sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt. You um... you can... It... it's none of my business. Just...” He swallowed hard. “I don't want to talk about it.”

“You never do.” Nicky sighed, crossing his arms. “Look, this is a very nice boy named Mattias.” He saw Mattias' head tip in a nod through the mirror. “I've offered him a handjob. I'm probably going to get one back.” Mark's eyes filled with tears again. “Why don't you want me to?”

“It's wrong.”

“Not good enough. Why don't you want me to?” Mark was silent. “Is it because you want me to do it with you instead?”

“No.” Mark went redder, though he was already pink from crying. Nicky nudged his chin up, trying to look him in the eye.

“Why, then?” Nicky raised an eyebrow. “You don't want me. You've told me that. So why shouldn't I? What possible reason do I have not to, other than you thinking I'm doing something wrong?” Mark shook his head. “For fuck's sake, Mark. Be honest with me one fucking time. Seriously. I don't give a shit what you say, but tell me something that's the fucking truth. Because I've been bending over backwards and all I get is lies."

He stepped back, saw Mark's lips stutter. Felt his heart lurch when he actually thought Mark might say something.

His mouth closed. He shook his head, turning back to the sink.

Nicky turned back, going to step into the cubicle. Not really feeling like it, not now, but feeling like he had to. To prove a point, at least. He wasn't going to let Mark do this to him any more. He wasn't going to feel guilty for what he was.

“I... I love you.”

He turned back, pushing the door open again. It had been tiny. A whisper. He tried to find Mark's eyes in the mirror but they were closed, his face turned down .

“What?”

“I...” Mark shook his head. “I can't.”

“You can. Say it again.” He pushed out again, heard a frustrated sigh behind him. Couldn't give a shit. Full lips trembled.

“I love you.” Mark whispered. “I don't want you to...” He sucked in a breath. “Why don't you care? You...” Teeth snatched up a full bottom lip, gnawing gently. “You don't want to change and it's fine for you. You look happy and... I don't understand. Why do you just get to be happy when I...”

“Come here.” Nicky sighed, feeling his heart swell. Mark sobbed, collapsing into his embrace. He heard Mattias go past, stomping out of the toilets, and couldn't be bothered to stop him. “You need to tell me what happened to you.” He said, holding the trembling boy. “We're going to go back to the hotel and you're going to tell me the whole thing.” Mark shook his head. “Yes. I won't judge you, I won't get angry at you. You never did anything wrong, okay?”

“I did.”

“Then I forgive you.” Nicky murmured, kissing his hair.

 


	15. Chapter 15

It hurt. Mark had been braced against the wall for almost ten minutes now while fingers moved inside him, another hand wrapped around his cock and moving. He wasn't getting hard, which he supposed was a good thing, but it hurt too much for that even to be an option. His eyes were screwed shut, lip almost bleeding where he was gnawing it.

It wasn't just the pain. He felt exposed, like someone was reaching inside him and finding things he didn't want them to see. He yelped when the fingers twisted, head tilted up on a desperate jerk, eyes flying open.

He found the window, stared as clouds drifted slowly past, trying to focus until this was over. The hand on him squeezed harder, hurting, and he felt tears slide down his cheeks.

It was just after lunch. This was his second session. He'd had one at breakfast, the two of them sitting in the bottom of the shed and talking about what Mark was feeling, pulling apart every bad thought he'd ever had, even some he hadn't realised were bad. Ben told him that he'd spoken to Mark's parents, told them he was doing really well. Mark asked if he could speak to them too. Ben said no, not until he was ready.

He'd been told what was coming next. Was trying not to think about it. Ben said his parents already knew about it. He'd gotten their permission when he'd been signed up and said they knew it was for the best, that there might be a chance that they'd have to go a bit more extreme on his therapy. He said they were really pleased that he was committing to it, were looking forward to seeing him when he came home. To wiping the slate clean and having a fresh start.

Something thicker than fingers pushed in, and he tasted blood when he bit his lip to hold back a scream.

“That's it.” A hand squeezed his shoulder. “It'll be over soon. Just focus."

He kept his eyes trained on the window, watching clouds drift, watching a few birds swoop past and drop out of sight, watched it blur as tears filled his eyes.

Ben pulled out a long time later. He was wearing a condom, said it was standard safety practice to prevent him catching anything off Mark, especially considering he had been reckless enough to have Jonah's semen on him. Said it was an awful risk, doing this kind of therapy, but that he was willing to make the sacrifice.

Mark stayed where he was. He wanted to get dressed but didn't know if he could bend down to do it. Ben helped him, then let him go to the bathroom to clean up. It hurt too much to go, and he sat with his head in his hands, wishing everything would just go away. There was blood on the toilet paper when he finished. He went back to the shed, Ben walking with him. He said he'd been as gentle as possible, that it was much worse than that, when it was done the way it usually was. Said that Jonah had wanted to do that to him. Had confessed to it when he was being punished for trying to avoid his therapy. He didn't want to get help. Ben was so glad Mark did, that they'd got him before anything really awful had happened to him.

He came back that night with dinner. Left again. Mark curled up on the floor, listening to things scratch around in the dirt outside. A cockroach scuttled across the edge of the wall and disappeared under the door. He watched it go. Looked up to see the stars peering back at him, faceless and dim in the black square of sky. He wanted to cry, but it felt too hard. He wanted to scream, but there wasn't anyone to hear. The river babbled past somewhere in the distance, on the way to somewhere else. Mark closed his eyes and floated with it, feeling the seconds crawl past like hours.

The next day he was brought breakfast. Ben brought him a nudie magazine, a hardcore one. It wasn't like the Playboys Kian had hidden under his mattress, with all the bits covered up. Ben told him to masturbate, sat there and watched while he tried his best. Not able to do it, trying desperately until he was raw. Ben shook his head, left him with the magazine, and told him he'd be back in the afternoon. He kept trying, but it was no good. His clothes were starting to smell, and his legs hurt from being cramped up all the time. Ben came back that afternoon and pushed into him again while Mark leaned his cheek against the wall, eyes turned up while the last rays of the day's sun warmed his face.

That night he did something he hadn't done in a very long time. He hurt so badly, knees bent under him and trying not to sit too much, hands clenched under his chin and forehead leaned against the wall. He prayed for hours, trying to remember everything he'd ever learned, begging to have this taken away so he didn't have to do it any more. Begging to wake up the next morning not feeling damaged or sick or different.

He didn't sleep. When Ben came back he was still on his knees, eyes turned up to the little window and looking for some sign. Some evidence that he'd been heard. That he'd been forgiven, that this punishment could finally end.

It was the last day of camp. He hadn't realised. Hadn't known how long he'd been sat here, the dark and light drifting into the same thing. He couldn't remember when he'd last slept, when he'd not been in pain. He got a hug, was told it was only one more night and then he could go home. That he was right on schedule. That his parents were so proud.

He kept his eyes closed during therapy, head buried in his arms. Prayed silently, focusing away from the pain. Feeling every jolt.

When Ben came back with dinner they talked about what he was going to do when he got home. Ben told him to put this whole thing behind him. Asked him if he wanted boys any more. Mark said no. God, that was absolutely the last thing he wanted. Ben told him his homework was to ask a girl out. Any girl. That he'd see how easy it was once he got back on the right path. How rewarding. He said it was important not to tell people about what had happened here, that they would be ashamed and disgusted of what he had been, but that it wouldn't matter now that he was the person he was supposed to be.

He nodded, was left in the dark for the last time, praying until he fell asleep. Begging for this to be it.

The moon stared back at him, blank and pale through the tiny window.

He was woken early the next morning, told to get up. He followed back to camp, going slow and stiff. Everybody was still asleep, the place desolate and quiet in the cold. It felt like he hadn't been here for years.

He had a shower. Scrubbed for ages. Nobody told him to hurry up, nobody knocked on the door. The water didn't seem hot enough, somehow. He turned it up until his skin was red, until he was lathered in half the bar of soap. When he came out he went to collect his bags from the office, his stuff having already been packed up and prepared for him to take. He was glad. He didn't want to go back to the cabin, see the others. See Jonah. They put him in a taxi to send him to the airport before everyone else woke up, not wanting to have him infected or manipulated. Ben hugged him on the way out and told him he'd been one of the best success stories he'd ever seen. Mark thanked him, trying to find a way to sit comfortably in the back of the car and watching as the trees broke at the end of the drive, the outside world stretching big and overwhelming around him.

His flight wasn't due for four more hours. He sat on a row of seats with his bag. Sort of wanted to eat but didn't have any money to buy food, though he hoped there'd be something on the plane. He dozed, and when he woke Jonah was standing in front of him.

“Mark?”

His eyes snapped open as he recoiled, rising panic shooting into his throat.

“What are you doing here?”

“My flight's...” Jonah gestured. “The bus just dropped us off. Are...” He crouched down, coming closer. “Are you okay? I thought they'd sent you home already?”

“I...” Mark swallowed. “No. I... I finished my therapy.” He backed into his chair as much as he could.

“Where were you? I was worried.” Fingers touched his shoulder.

“Fuck off!” He shouted, feeling his whole body lurch away from Jonah's hand. “You fucking left me!” He felt tears spring to his but refused to give into them, too angry.

“I thought you were right behind me...” Jonah frowned, going to sit down next to him. Mark pushed him away, shoving the hand off his shoulder.

“Stop lying! It's all you do!” He cried. “Fuck off! You can't do this to me! I'm not like you!” He stood, shoving Jonah back with both hands. “Just leave me alone, you fucking faggot piece of shit!”

“I...” Jonah's hand covered his mouth, tears springing to his eyes. He was pale. Looked horribly tired. Mark didn't want to look at him. Didn't want to see the weeks of lies, of manipulation, what Jonah had admitted to planning to do to him. There was too much hurt, too much betrayal. “But...”

“Go home!” Mark shouted. People were looking. He didn't care. “I hope I never see you again!” He shrieked. “I hope you fucking die!”

He sat back down, burying his face in his hands, trying to block him out. Sat for a long time, until they announced his flight.

He stood up, found his ticket, and headed for the gate.

 

*

 

“I'm sorry.” Mark wouldn't stop saying it. Had been saying it for hours, interspersed with every other sentence while it had blurted out slowly, every word halting and small. “I'm so sorry.” He whispered again. “I tried.”

“Oh god...” Nicky felt sick. Wanted to go throw up but couldn't leave Mark for a second. It was early in the morning, not yet light, but he felt like he'd been sat here for days. He'd started by asking questions, gotten tiny, broken answers, picking at the threads of Mark's story until the whole thing had started to unravel. “Jesus.” He whispered, shuffling in closer. Mark hadn't wanted to be touched. They'd sat cross-legged on the bed, facing each other while Mark had spilled it out, the dam of his lies slowly crumbling until Nicky was drowning in the flood.

He touched his cheeks, realised they were wet. Mark wasn't looking at him, was rocking slightly on the bed. He'd gotten up once to be sick, and Nicky had sat with him, watching him throw up, head reeling thinking about Mark being alone in the dark, listening to things moving around outside.

“I'm sorry.”

“It's not your fault.” Nicky murmured, putting his hand on a trembling thigh. “Not for a second. Oh, love...” His fingers found a pale, tear-stained cheek. “There was never anything wrong with you.”

“There was. I... I fixed it.”

“No. They broke you.” He brushed tears away with his thumb. “There was never anything wrong with you. Not ever. You were perfect and they broke you and put you back together the way they wanted.” And had raped him. Fuck. He couldn't start talking about that yet. Didn't even know how to start. “They were wrong.”

“No...”

“Yes.” Nicky said firmly. They were due to be up in a few hours, had to be back on the bus. He stroked hair back from a tired face. “They're success stories, are they? Sitting at home every day knowing they're lying to themselves? Secretly hating their wives, telling their kids to be ashamed if they're different? They're miserable. You don't fix someone by telling them they're wrong. You help them learn that they're okay the way they are, because they're beautiful. You're beautiful.” He edged a little closer, wrapping one arm tentatively around a solid waist. The other, too, when he wasn't pushed away. “You know how I said people treat you like crap because they're jealous?” Mark nodded. “They were jealous too. Because they'll never be happy. Because they're trying to be like everyone else without realising there _is_ no everyone else. It's just a bunch of people trying to hide behind what's normal. They're no better than those kids at your school, except they're old enough to know better.”

“I was jealous of you tonight.” Mark whispered. “Like... I was jealous of him because he had you but... I was jealous because you looked... happy. Like you didn't care. You were just doing it, like you didn't care what the consequences were.”

“Of course I care.” Nicky smiled. “He asked to fuck me, you know?” He felt Mark flinch. “I said no. I'd just met him and I didn't want to go there with him. I can make decisions for myself. I don't have to do something because I'm gay. It doesn't even factor in. I weigh up the pros and cons and decided what's right for me. What's safe.”

“He was all over you.”

“I know. It was fun.” Nicky chuckled, kissing his cheek. “It felt good. It didn't have to go anywhere. Kian was getting more action than I was. Is he wrong?”

“But that's with a girl...”

“And if he doesn't use a condom he's an idiot. But it doesn't mean either of them are wrong. He might eat her out. She might suck him off. They'll probably fuck. Hell, there's even a chance she'll want to go in the backdoor. That's their bloody business. It doesn't hurt anyone, it doesn't make them bad people. You won't know if they did or not anyway, unless they tell you, so it doesn't change a damn thing except Kian gets to wake up in a few hours with a spring in his step and a raging hangover.”

“I don't want...” He shook his head. “I don't want to do that. Fuck around.”

“You don't have to.” Nicky assured him. “I didn't want to either, when we were together.” The memory made him shiver. He'd fucked Mark. Mark had... “Why did you want to be with me?” He asked. “I don't understand.”

A head landed on his shoulder. Nicky wrapped around him, kissing his hair. “I gave up. For a bit. I just... It was all too hard. You kissed me and...”

“I liked kissing you.”

“I liked it too.” Mark breathed. “I think I saw you and you were so happy. You didn't care. The others thought you were cool and I didn't... get it. Why it was okay for you to be different.” Blue eyes looked up. “You were nice to me and I thought... maybe it's the same all over again. Maybe you were just playing me so you could use me.”

“Have I ever tried to hurt you?”

“No.” The younger boy huffed out a breath, like it was some insult that Nicky hadn't. He looked up. “I know I'm sick but nothing was working any more and I just figured what's the point? What's the point in even trying if I can never...” He closed his eyes. “I tried with girls. I did. But it wouldn't work and I was so lonely and you were nice and I just gave up.”

“Why did you change your mind?”

Mark's eyes screwed shut. He exhaled slowly, soft and shuddering.

“I got a letter.”

“From the other guys? About the funeral?”

“No. That... was later. I got a letter from Jonah.” A tear crawled down his cheek. “He said he was sick.” Nicky didn't know what to say to that, just kept stroking soft hair. “He said he was sorry he'd hurt me, that he never meant to but... He said he was getting treatment, that he wanted a fresh start. He said he was seeing a girl. That he was trying to change."

  
“What did you say?”

“Nothing. I didn't... I wanted to call. I thought about it. To tell him I was sorry, maybe. Or... or I don't know. To hear his voice. And then I didn't. And two months later...” He covered his face with his hands, sobbing. “The last thing I said was that I hoped he'd die.”

“Jesus.” Nicky pulled him close.

“He got sick. They said that would happen and it did and I... I didn't want it to happen to me. I wanted to stop so... I wanted not to like you any more but you were always so nice to me and I thought if you... did that. If I got you to... it would stop again.”

“Shhh...” Nicky whispered. Mark was shaking hard, hands hiding his face. He rocked him carefully, trying to soothe him. Not knowing what the hell to say. Angry and horrified and so so sorry for the trembling boy in his arms. Feeling used and manipulated and hating him a little bit. Not wanting to.

He got Mark laid down in bed, eventually. It was almost light so it wasn't like they were getting any sleep but they lay there quietly, face to face, his fingers carefully stroking through hair, down shoulders, up his neck. Tracing soft lips. Mark just lay there, eyes blank while Nicky touched him slowly, leg hooked around his and trying to provide some sort of warmth, some sort of comfort. Not even knowing where to start.

They got their wake-up call, so they got out of bed and showered, Nicky watching Mark dress mechanically, get his things together. The other three were hungover and didn't ask any questions. Kian and Bryan slept through most of the first few hours and Shane was barely awake, just stared into space while the road went past beneath them.

Mark sat on the floor, cross-legged and leaned back against the couch. He didn't speak much, didn't seem to do anything. Nicky made cups of tea and sat next to him, reaching out an arm and letting a heavy head lean against his shoulder.

 

*

 

His parents were waiting at the airport, hugged him hard with smiles on their faces and asked how camp had been. He said fine. They asked how the other kids had been. He said okay. They asked how the counsellors had been. He said nice.

They went home. He unpacked and went to shower again. They asked if everything was okay. He said he was just tired. They said they were happy to see him. His mam made him his favourite dinner, kissed the top of his head, and asked if he was looking forward to going back to school. He didn't know what to say.

The first day back was odd. It felt too fast, like there were too many people rushing past him. He went to class. When he was walking back from lunch some kid shoulder-barged him on purpose, knocking his bag to the ground. He bent to pick it up, feeling like he was in a dream.

Time passed, trickling by. It was a while until he realised nobody had picked on him in a few days. Then a few weeks. They'd just seemed to stop entirely, like they'd lost interest. No name-calling, no pranks. He hadn't made friends with them but he'd somehow seemed to blend back into the scenery without realising it. Kian asked if he wanted to come round to his on the weekend. He said sure. He asked if Shane would be there and Kian said no, he'd just thought it'd be fun to hang out.

He was at a party at Kian's place a few weeks later when a girl came over and started flirting with him. He wasn't sure what to do, but somehow he ended up asking her out. They went to the movies and she kissed him when he walked her to her door. His parents beamed at him and asked if he was in love, ribbing him and saying she seemed a nice girl. He kissed her again a few more times, but it seemed to peter out. He asked out another one, one of the girls from the musical and they went together for a few months. He liked her. She knew a lot about music and he figured maybe this was it. Being able to sit and talk to someone and spend time together and not have to worry about doing something wrong. About letting someone down or getting sick or any of that. He thought about maybe trying to go a little further than kissing but she said she wasn't ready and he was sort of relieved.

He kept busy. It was easier to avoid thinking about boys when his mind was occupied, and he didn't really want to anyway when all he could think about was how much it had hurt, how sick he'd been. How Jonah had run, leaving him there. It wasn't worth it. He knew how to control it now, could see why he'd gotten confused and started thinking the wrong way.

It was Shane and Kian's idea, to get up at one of the musicals and sing a few songs together. Shane was big into Boyzone, was always banging on about how the girls would be falling all over them, and Mark supposed he could get involved with that. He liked to sing. It was the one thing he knew about himself, that still held true. Something he was good at. His parents had always praised his voice, had encouraged him, so he threw himself into it.

He couldn't believe how quickly it escalated. One day they were singing at the children's hospital, just trying to lift a few spirits. A few weeks later they were supporting the Backstreet Boys. Shane couldn't stop crying. Louis Walsh wanted to get them signed up with Sony BMG, really make a go of it. The world had turned into a blur.

But it was good. He had a goal. A task at hand. Something he could focus on and tune out everything else. Louis wanted to cut them down to five. He wanted to audition new people, cut them down again. Kian went to Dublin to sit in on the auditions, came back and said there were a few really good prospects. Mark watched the others go, silently amazed that he was still here. That he'd been chosen. Feeling for the first time in his life that he was accepted, that he wasn't some freak getting in everybody's way.

They'd fixed him. It felt amazing.

 

*

 

They slept together that night, curled around each other in the same bunk. The next night they were at a hotel in Denmark, sliding into bed late and dropping off quickly, both of them exhausted. Mark looked a little better, had some more colour in his cheeks and seemed to be eating okay.

They finally had a late start a few days later, were able to sleep in in Germany before a TV taping that afternoon. Nicky asked if Mark wanted to go out, do anything during the day. They stayed up in the room, dozing quietly. He was watching TV, trying to figure out if it was worth the effort to order room service, when Mark kissed him.

It was sudden. They were just chilling on the bed, Nicky's head on Mark's shoulder, when the younger boy turned and caught his lips, soft and awkward. Nicky made a surprised noise, almost laughed in shock. Mark pulled back, blushing.

“Sorry.”

“What was that for?” Nicky sat up and moved over to straddle thick thighs, resting his hands on Mark's shoulders. Mark looked away.

“Dunno. Just... wanted to.” He shrugged, eyes peeking up shyly. Nicky cupped his cheek, running a thumb over plump red lips.

“Okay.” He nodded. “Do you want to do it again?” Mark looked away again. “It's just a kiss.” He said. “It can mean whatever you want it to mean, even if it's just because it feels good.” He wanted more than that, himself, but this wasn't the time to push, to go throwing himself back into something serious. They weren't going to be going anywhere if Mark couldn't push a little, figure out what he was comfortable with.

“Is that alright?”

“Course it is.” Nicky leaned in, felt Mark's breath quicken.

It was soft and chaste. Lips against lips like they were meeting for the first time. Testing without exploring too deep, just pressure while Nick moved his mouth slowly, feeling Mark respond against him, feeling fingers tentatively settle on his hips. He smiled, rubbing their noses together when he pulled away.

“That was nice.” He said. “Did you like that?”

“Yes.” Mark mumbled. His eyes were heavy, lips pink. “I missed it.” He admitted, looking up shyly. “It was my favourite bit.”

“Mine too.” Nicky smiled. He slid down, snuggling his head into Mark's chest. “Hold me for a bit.” He urged. “I missed you.” Arms wrapped carefully around him and he sighed, feeling himself relax, liking being held instead of being the one doing the holding. Needing a bit of comfort after the hell the last few months had been. “What else did you like?” He asked, closing his eyes to better sink into the warm, soft smell of him.

“I liked...” The arms tightened a little. “I don't know.” He said finally. “I didn't... when...” He swallowed. “When you were rubbing, like, against me. That was...”

“That definitely was.” Nicky agreed. That had been okay, when they'd done that a few times. Maybe it was the fact that they hadn't taken their clothes off while they'd been doing it, that Mark hadn't really had to do anything except lay there and feel, didn't have to touch. Nicky realised that he never really had, had never sucked Nicky, and had maybe only touched him once or twice when he'd returned the favour of a handjob. It made him sick, thinking Mark had been trying to edge around doing anything with him, doing it anyway because he maybe thought it was expected. “Did you like it when I touched you?”

“I...” He looked up to see Mark shaking his head. “I didn't want to like it.”

“Did you though?”

“I don't know.” Mark said quietly, looking lost. Nicky felt a roll of pity, sat up a little to drop a kiss on his forehead, then lay back down, snuggling into his neck. “Nicky?”

“Yeah?”

“What do you like?”

“What do I like.” He echoed, trying to think. “I like a lot of things. It depends on the person, really.” He pursed his lips. “I like... getting to know someone. That first bit where you're still finding out what each other likes and you're trying different things. Not even in bed, just in general. Like, you go have dinner and find out they don't like olives, and then you're at the supermarket and he runs into someone he knows and suddenly they're speaking fluent Japanese, and you back to theirs and there's a poster of some black and white movie you've never heard of that's their favourite, so you watch it with them, and it's not your thing but it makes them seem like more of a whole person. That's really sexy.” He heard a bemused chuckle.

“Who was that?”

“The movie was Levi. He was a sweetheart. Elliot knew Japanese. I had no idea. I'd been seeing him for a couple of months, and he starts chatting to this girl. They're just laughing away. Apparently his dad grew up there.”

“Why did you break up?”

“He fancied someone else.” Nicky shrugged. It had hurt like a bitch at the time but they'd never been all that serious. It had been while he was still in auditions and he'd met Mark a few days before, so it wasn't like there weren't silver linings.

“He's mad.”

“I'll take that as a compliment.” Nicky laughed, saw a blushing smile. “It wasn't the end of the world. We just weren't meant to be. You can't stay with someone and be unhappy when the right one might be right around the corner. Otherwise you're just settling, and then both of you are miserable. I would never want to be with someone knowing they were using me like that.”

He sat up again, hooking his finger under a pointed chin, tugging it up so their eyes could meet.

“You need to be with someone who loves you and makes you happy. Guy, girl, it doesn't make any difference. The sex doesn't matter, as long as you both do what you're comfortable with. It's a relationship, not a checklist. That's what people don't get. I'm not gay because I want to be with men. It's just that sexually and emotionally that's what interests me, and it's easier to put me into that box so other people can label it. Like shorthand. I'm gay. I'm also five foot ten, good at football, seriously competitive, and in a boyband.”

Mark was staring at him. He smiled, leaning in.

“That's how other people describe me, though.” He dropped a kiss on soft lips. “I also make embarrassing noises when you nibble my ear. I wake up at two in the morning sometimes because I have this recurring dream where I can't find my shoes. I'm an absolute sucker for a sad movie. One time I ate a whole spoonful of chilli powder on a bet and threw up for an hour. I don't hate girls, I was never abused, I'm not sick. Yeah, I'll play around, but I know that the moment I meet the right boy I'll want to spend the rest of my life with him and never look at anyone else.”

“I'm me.” He shrugged. “You're you. I like you. If you were straight I'd like you. You'd still be exactly the same person. You'd still have an amazing voice. You'd still smell good. You'd still laugh like an idiot at Eddie Murphy movies. You'd still hate oysters and love Mariah Carey and go a little bit cross-eyed when you're thinking really hard. Who gives a shit who you love, as long as they love you back? If I decided I hated you because you've got brown hair it wouldn't be up to you to dye it blonde so I'd be okay with it. That'd be fucking ridiculous. That's my problem, not yours.”

“I'd look terrible blonde.”

“You really would.” Nicky agreed. “But if you were I'd like you anyway.”

Mark looked like he was about to laugh and wasn't sure why. Nicky grinned, hugging him.

“There's nothing to fix.” Nicky said, kissing his ear. Arms wrapped around his back. He settled into them, feeling them tighten when he snuggled in closer. “You're not broken.” He murmured. “You're just you."

 


	16. Chapter 16

Kissing Mark was definitely Nicky's favourite thing. It happened a lot over the next couple of weeks. Mark seemed to be getting brave in a way that he hadn't when they'd been together the last time. Nicky didn't know if they were back together, didn't think they were, really. He wasn't sure if they'd been together before, not considering everything he knew now. Either way, it was nice. It felt easy and friendly, not like it was suggestive of anything but just because it felt good on its own.

“Mm...” He murmured. They were in the bathroom, Nicky sat on the sink and Mark between his legs, their lips meeting slowly while strong hands settled on his thighs, holding him still. He'd popped in for a chat while Mark was brushing his teeth, hoisted himself up on the sink without thinking, just happily talking about a football game Mark was pretending to be interested in. Then Mark had spat out the toothpaste, rinsed his mouth, and leaned over to peck him quickly on the mouth.

Which had been just the start.

“You taste good.” Nicky whispered, felt the hands on his thighs squeeze slightly, his own arms wrapped around Mark's neck. Their noses rubbed together, shy eyes peering up from under lowered lashes.

“Yeah.” Mark agreed. Nicky glanced down, saw interest rising in the pyjama bottoms he was still wearing. “We should stop.”

“If you like.” Nicky agreed. He was a little hard himself. “Would you like to go get some breakfast or anything? My treat.”

“You taking me out?” It was a joke, but Nicky could see a flicker of hope behind those eyes.

“If you like.” He paused, watching Mark chew a plump lower lip. “Got a better idea. How about you take me out?” That idea got a confused look. Nicky smirked. “Seriously. We've got tonight off. Take me out on a date.”

“A date?”

“Sure.” Nicky nodded. “All this snogging and I'm going to think you're taking advantage.” He saw Mark start to blush, pull away, and caught his arm. “Not that it's not a lot of fun.” He leaned in, pecking his nose. “Come on. Take me somewhere you want to go.”

“What, like the movies, or?”

“Up to you.” Nicky shrugged. “How about this? You get ready the kind of date you wish someone would take you on, and I'll take you on that. You're going to get me to take you on your dream date.”

“So... like, dinner?”

“Whatever you like.” The lack of imagination was gorgeous, like Mark had one idea of what a date was supposed to be. Dinner. Movies. He'd probably walk Nicky to the front door.

“What's the best date you've ever been on?”

Nicky smiled. Mark had done this a lot the last few weeks, asking Nicky what he thought about something whenever Nicky asked him first. He had no imagination for these things, like everything he'd learned about relationships had come from text books. Like, for candlelit dinners, refer to page six. It was profoundly sweet, and sort of nice, feeling like they were slowly getting to know each other every time Nicky told a new story, watched the way Mark reacted, hearing what kind of questions he'd ask.

Nicky pursed his lips, trying to think. Mark was still stood between his legs, so he reeled him in a little tighter, messing up dark hair that was still messy from bed anyway, and using the grip to tug him into a soft, slow kiss. Tongue hadn't really been happening much, but this was still comfortable, feeling Mark against him, exploring hesitantly like he thought he was about to be caught doing something wrong.

“We went to see Shelbourne play Cork at Tolka Park.” He said finally. “Home game, three to one. It had been pissing raining all week and we thought about calling it off, but then on the day it was beautiful. He got us seats practically on the pitch. I'd been really down because I hadn't been out of the league long and I'd been avoiding going to games, but by the end I was screaming myself raw.” Mark laughed, nuzzling his cheek. “Afterwards we went to the bar and played snooker until two in the morning. Then we went back to his and we thought we'd watch the sun come up but we fell asleep on the couch and didn't wake up until one in the afternoon.” He grinned, remembering. “It was just a really good day.”

“That sounds nice.” Mark murmured. “I could try to get tickets to a game?”

“No, that was my date.” Nicky chuckled. “This is yours. What do you want to do?”

“I don't know.” Red lips pursed. Nicky kissed them.

“It'll be perfect.” He promised. “I'll even let you dress me.”

“Why?”

“Because I don't know where we're going. You know the dress code, you sort me out. I'm putting a lot of trust in you, Feehily. It's not every day I let someone get near me wardrobe.”

“I wouldn't know where to start.”

“You'll think of something.” Nicky winked, sliding down off the sink. “But I'm going to go find something else to do while you organise it. I'll see you at the shoot, yeah?” He kissed a soft cheek. Mark touched it, eyes confused. “Pick me up at eight.”

 

*

 

“You okay?”

Mark looked up from his breakfast. His mam was giving him a concerned smile from across the table and he nodded, scooping up another spoonful of cereal.

“Yeah. Fine. Bit nervous, I think.” He huffed out a breath, grinning self-consciously when she laughed. “I know we've been down to Dublin a few times, but...”

“It's exciting.” She agreed. “Louis seems nice. He's taking care of everything okay?”

“Yeah.” He mumbled through a mouthful, then swallowed. “He gets really excited sometimes. Shane does this brilliant impression of him. I can't do it.” He laughed, looking back down. “He keeps saying we're gonna be like... the next Boyzone or something.”

“He must really believe in you then.” Her hand covered his. “We're really proud of you, honey. Me and your dad. No matter what happens.” He nodded, feeling his cheeks flush. “You've grown up so much.” Her hand came up to brush hair off his face. “We were really worried about you in school. You always seemed so lost. Then you came back from camp and...” He nodded. He'd been back almost a year now, had turned eighteen in the meantime, finished his Leaving Cert. It was mad how quickly it had fallen behind him. “Just be happy and safe, okay? You can always call for a chat.”

“I know. Thanks mam.” He felt tears spring to his eyes and wasn't sure why. “When...” He hadn't talked about this much, didn't know how to. “When you sent me to camp...” He started. “Did you know they'd help?”

“We hoped they would.” His mother smiled. “Your school called, actually, said you were having a lot of trouble, getting picked on. We noticed, of course. You were so quiet. I didn't want that for you and... and they said they could get you back on track, get you talking about your feelings properly. Work through some of the things that were upsetting you. We're glad they could help.”

“Yeah.” He nodded, going back to his cereal. She stood up, going to rinse her plate. “What if...” He said finally. “What if they hadn't been able to?”

“Then I'd be really sad for you.” A kiss dropped onto the top of his hair. “I didn't want you being miserable or missing out on opportunities because you were having trouble being happy. But everything's working out, right? You've not really had any troubles since.” She bent down, giving him a hug. “We're proud of you, sweetheart.

A horn beeped outside, and he looked up. She peered out the window.

“That's Shane.” She bent down, hugging him again. “Go get your stuff. I'll walk you out.”

 

*

 

Nicky tugged on his hoodie, straightening it out in the mirror. It had been left on his bed with a pair of comfortable jeans and his nice trainers. He didn't look all that sexy, he didn't think, but Mark had chosen it and he'd said he'd wear it. It was his nice warm one, a blue fleece he'd picked up when they'd been in Finland and he'd been bloody freezing. He had a plain t-shirt on underneath, and with it being a bit chilly outside he thought it'd probably do.

Mark knocked on the door at eight, already dressed in nice jeans and the jacket Nicky had admired him in when they'd been at the club in Sweden. It felt like years ago now, back in London and with the strange reality of Mark's story hanging between them like smoke.

“You look nice.”

“You too.” Mark blushed, reaching out to squeeze his hand. “Um... you mind going for a drive?”

“Definitely not.” Nicky squeezed past, headed for the lift. Mark held his hand on the way down to stop him from panicking. They stopped a few doors down, and the other lads got on, Bryan shooting a look at their joined hands.

“Back together lads? Glad for ye.” He winked as they stepped out of the lift. Nicky saw Mark's mouth drop open in shock, blinking when Shane clapped him on the back on the way to the restaurant, already turning to talk to Kian.

They slid into a rented car, Mark driving. Nicky adjusted the seat, looking at the boy next to him, the look of self-conscious concentration as they manoeuvred out of the driveway and onto the street, headed for the motorway.

They didn't really talk much. He turned on the radio and after a while they were both singing along, listening to whatever the hell was in the Top 40. If I Let You Go came on after a bit and they belted it out, Mark doing Shane's bits and Nicky doing Bryan's. Nicky said they should piss the others off and start again as a duo. Mark laughed and said at least they'd all be able to fit in one taxi.

They pulled up on a long stretch of road in the middle of nowhere, fields stretched out to either side. The moon was bright and full, enough to see by, and Mark pulled a beach bag out of the trunk of the car. Nicky glanced at it curiously, but them his hand was being taken and he was led down a small path through a cluster of trees, ducking while Mark pushed branches out of the way.

They came out into a clearing next to a small pond, the trees walling them in on one side and a fence stretched right out to the distance on the other, the full moon peering down. There were no other lights, nothing as far as he could see, and he turned to look at Mark, who was pulling a blanket out of the bag and spreading it on the grass.

“Picnic?” Nicky asked. Mark nodded, reaching into the bag again for a few electric camp lanterns, which he turned on and stuck on the corners of the blanket to hold it steady. Nicky sat down, smiling when Mark collapsed next to him.

“It's okay?”

“It's perfect.” He kissed a freshly-shaved cheek, got a blushing smile. “You're perfect.”

“I'm not.” Mark said quietly. Nicky cupped his cheek.

“You are.” He said. “You just don't know it yet.” The next kiss was tender, slow, Mark's mouth parting against his until they were breathing each other in, Nicky's hand closed on the back of his neck.

“I got food.” Mark explained, pulling away. He dug into the basket, pulling out a couple of containers. It was all store-bought – it wasn't like they had a kitchen in the hotel room – but it was sweet, all things Nicky liked. Some cheese, crackers, a six-pack of beer and a container of cold chicken. Nicky sat next to him with a beer, leaned against his shoulder and nibbling on a bit of cheese. A kiss touched his cheek.

“You're full of surprises.” Nicky commented.

“Am I?”

“Yeah.” He laughed, knowing that was barely scraping the surface of what Mark was. “This is nice. Thank you for bringing me.” He put his beer aside, laying down to look up at the stars. Mark lay next to him, their hands entwining between them. “What are you thinking?” He asked, glancing over at a face turned up the sky.

“I'm not sure.” Mark replied. He glanced over. “Do the others know about us?”

“Yeah.” Nicky admitted. “They sort of did the first time around, actually.” Mark's eyes widened and Nicky had to stop himself from laughing. It was gorgeous, watching his lips part in surprise.

“They didn't say.”

“They didn't think you wanted them to know.” Nicky shrugged. “They didn't really care. Bryan was gutted we broke up, actually.” He squeezed Mark's hand. “This is what I'm saying. You've convinced yourself it's wrong and you try to push it down but nobody minds. Not the people that matter. I can get my mam to talk to your parents if you want. Maybe they won't mind so much either. Have you ever spoken to them about it?”

“No. Not really.” Mark sighed. “Seemed a bit pointless after all that. They were just glad I was better.”

“You never told them you weren't.”

“No.” Mark hesitated. “I spent my whole life thinking one thing and then you say other things and I don't know how to...” He sighed. “I really want to believe you, but it means...” He trailed off. Nicky squeezed his hand. “If I do, it means I was wrong. That what happened was wrong and... how am I supposed to go through the rest of my life knowing it all happened for no reason? That I let it...” Blue eyes closed. “I hurt you because of it. I hurt other people. Jonah... He didn't need to die. But he did and if I can't believe it was because he was wrong then...” His eyes opened again, dark pools reflecting the moon. Nicky rolled over onto his side, looking down into a conflicted face.

“It wasn't your fault.” Nicky murmured, his fingers finding the shape of a cheekbone, the curve of a jaw. Mark looked up at him, eyes begging. “And if it was, you've already been punished more than it's worth. A thousand times over. He had problems and instead of helping him they blamed it on something he couldn't stop. You never asked to be lied to, to be manipulated. You never asked to be... raped.” He made himself say the word. Mark shivered, his eyes filling with tears. “What matters now is what you do next.”

“I don't know what to do.”

“That's up to you.” He traced his fingers down a straight nose, thumbing over a closed eyelid. “You can do whatever you want.”

“What do you want to do?”

Nicky smiled, bending to kiss him. “I want to do that.” He did it again. “I want to stay here with you until it's time to go home. Then I want to see what happens next. I want to keep working really hard if it means spending every day with you. I don't care if we're shagging, I don't care if we're together, I just want to see you smile every day and the rest can figure itself out.”

He wanted to call the police and go to the camp with a baseball bat, but that wasn't something to bring up now. Not yet.

“You don't want to be with me?”

“I didn't say that.” He cupped a perfect cheek, kissed the other one. “I would love to be with you, but I want you to be happy first. I won't make you be anything you don't want.” He saw lips snarl in a low sob. “I want you to be you. I want you to love yourself.”

“I don't.” Mark shook his head. “I don't know who the hell I am.” He admitted. Nicky bent down, kissing him slowly.

“That's okay.” He murmured, feeling questing hands drift down his back. “I'll be here until you figure it out.”

 

*

 

Mark was sat at a desk in The Pod, staring up at the stage. A few guys had come out. Some guy named Bryan was already being inked in as a callback, had been totally enthusiastic and had a hell of a voice on him. Mark liked him immediately.

“How many left?” Shane whispered. Kian looked down at the sheet of paper.

“One more.”

“Brilliant. I'm starving.” He glanced over at Mark. “You wanna get some lunch after this?”

“Lads.” Louis hissed. They all shut up, Shane smirking cheekily as he settled back into his seat.

A boy walked out onto the stage. Gingery hair curling in his neck and a blue shirt on. He was slender, with a natural pout and a swagger in his walk that suggested he knew exactly who he was and wasn't going to make excuses for it. Mark sat up a little straighter, intrigued immediately and not able to figure out why.

He started singing. Father and Son. Mark saw Louis roll his eyes – there had been a lot of Boyzone songs today, people paying lip service to Louis' other acts.

He fucked it. Started in the wrong key and ground to a halt a few lines in, blushing.

“Sorry.” He said, voice a husky croak. “Ehm... can I start again, please? Without the music?”

Kian sighed.

“Yeah.” Mark found himself saying. The others glanced at him in surprise. He supposed it was weird – he'd barely spoken all day, had let the others get on with it and just taken it all in, not able to believe he was here, that he was doing this. “It's the last one.” He whispered. “He sounded good. He just made a mistake. Then after we can go get food.” Shane brightened at that. Louis shrugged.

“Go again.”

He did it properly this time. He sounded good a capella, had a hoarse voice and a natural sense of pitch and rhythm. Halfway through the song Mark felt eyes fall onto him. He stared back, locked. Got a smile in return.

“Thanks.” Louis waved him off stage.

“He was good, right?” Kian was already talking. “We saw him last time. Didn't think much of him, but he surprised me. You did good, Marky. I was ready to piss him off.” He grinned, reaching over to nudge Mark gently on the shoulder. Louis was nodding, listening to them talk. He did that. Waited until they got everything out of their systems before telling them what he thought.

“He's got the right look.” Shane agreed. “Can we call him back?”

“Definitely.” Louis nodded, scribbling something down. He stood, stretching. “Alright, let's break for lunch. I'll see you back here in... an hour?” They nodded, getting up. Louis was already pulling out his mobile phone, starting to dial. He was always on the phone, always organising someone. Last week Mark had been listening to him chatter on and then realised suddenly that he was having a conversation with Keith Duffy. Talking to one fifth of Boyzone right next to where Mark was sitting. It was surreal.

“I've gotta go to the bathroom.” Mark said. “Catch up with you outside?” They nodded. He headed toward the back of the club, going down the corridor to the toilets. The guy they'd just seen was already in there, talking on the phone. Mark smiled, waving politely as he gabbed away and ducking into the stall. He sounded like he was talking to a girlfriend or something, said babe a couple of times and mentioned he'd pop over that night. When he came out the guy was washing his hands.

“Hey.” The guy said. He looked a little older, maybe nineteen or twenty. Mark nodded. “You're in the thing, right? The band?”

“Yeah.” Mark nodded. “You did well. We liked you.”

“Oh, thank god.” He laughed. He did it easily, with a kind of carefree attitude that made Mark envy him at once. “I thought I'd fucked it after that Father and Son shit. I got used to it in the one key and then...” He rolled his eyes. “Sorry, you don't want to hear my excuses. I have to get going anyway instead of standing around in the bathroom annoying you. I'm not trying to butter you up for a spot, honest.”

He grinned, then jumped when his pocket beeped. He dug out a mobile. It was quite similar to Mark's. He'd never had one before, was still getting used to using it. He liked the texting thing, though. It was a bit like sending notes in class, especially when the three of them were trying to joke behind Louis' back.

“Sorry. Boyfriend.” He glanced at the screen, then tucked it back into his pocket while Mark stared in surprise, startled into silence. “He keeps asking me how it's going. Anyway...” He chuckled self-consciously, reached out a hand. “Sorry. Nicky.”

“Mark.” He took the hand hesitantly, shook it. It was firm and comfortable, warm in his grip. For a moment he forgot what he'd just heard, taken in by kind blue eyes and a friendly smile.

Nicky grinned, squeezing before letting go. Mark let his hand drop, feeling warm all over in a way he hadn't in a very long time. His fingers reached automatically for the rubber band, but he hadn't worn it in months. Hadn't needed to. “Hopefully I'll see you again.”

“Yeah. Hopefully.” Nicky was already headed back toward the door. “Um. Bye.”

Nicky glanced over his shoulder, blue eyes sparkling, and nodded.

“Nice to meet you.”

 


End file.
